Tomorrow Never Dies
by Feytalaria
Summary: A VD fan fic that starts in Scotland 1745 and ends... I'm not sure.
1. Chapter 1

author notes: fairly happy with the first chapter, as is. No major changes, mainly grammar, spelling and flow issues fixed. :) 4/6/04  
  
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"Innocent child, how you thought you knew me" - (London After Midnight, The Bondage Song)  
  
Scotland - 1744  
  
Shannon Drake sat looking down the table at the man with the cap of dark hair. Every now and then his eyes would sweep her side of the table, boldly meeting hers for an instant before moving on. It bothered her that he did not appear to have any trouble ignoring her. She knew she was beautiful, or at least attractive, with her own raven dark hair that fell to her waist in a tumble of waves and curls. To her disappointment though, the man with the dark hair was studying Gretchen, her blonde cousin.  
  
So that is what he wants, Shannon quipped in her mind. He likes the classic blonde and blue eyes. Shannon lowered her own dark eyes to the long, oak wood table of the dining hall. Dinners like this, were common in the Drake estate and people would come from everywhere to dine in the immaculate Drake hall.  
  
The Drakes were one of the most prominent families in Scotland. Their wealth was well known, as were her father and brothers who were all well known Jacobites and supporters of the Bonnie Prince Charlie. The dining hall was stone and wood, and filled with the noise of a large crowd. There were titters from the females and booming barks from the males. People crowded around the family table, where Shannon sat, anxious to get a word or appearance in with her father, the chieftain of their clan.  
  
Tired with the turn the night had taken, Shannon gathered the skirts of her maroon dining dress and made her way to the staircase that led to the west wing, where the family rooms were located. A sharp noise from the stairwell caught her attention, walking to the foot of the stair, she smiled.   
  
"Toby."  
  
Toby shook his shoulder length auburn hair in reply. "Lady Shannon." He bowed with mock formality. "How was dinner? Looked very exciting."  
  
Because he was one of the stable hands, he was not allowed to eat with the family even though he had practically been raised with Shannon and her cousin Gretchen.  
  
"No, it was very boring, but I think Gretel may have a proposal coming soon." She deliberately used her cousin's annoying nick name to represent the frustration she was feeling toward her cousin at the moment.  
  
"Who?" he said, taking her hand and leading her to the door, not quite entering the dining hall but crouching behind the frame so that the whole room was visible to Shannon and Toby, but they remained invisible to the eyes in the room.  
  
Placing a hand on Toby's shoulder to balance herself as she pointed to the stranger with the cap of dark hair. He was leading Gretchen by the hand to the courtyard entrance. "There, see? He has Gretel by the hand, and leading her outside to the gardens. Him? You see him?"  
  
Toby's head moved up and down, "Aye," he backed up and stood straight. "I know him, he came on a nice ride last night, very late. He didn't speak much. He asked where he could find the chieftain. Then he walked away once I told him."  
  
"Odd."  
  
Toby shrugged. "For what it is worth his name is Salvatore. I didn't catch his first name, but he comes from Italy among other places."   
  
As Shannon's mouth opened to ask how Toby had come across that information he added with a smile, "He told me himself. I assume you aren't going to just let him propose to Gretchen, are you?" He smiled at her, proving once again he knew her far to well.  
  
"Well of course not," Shannon began, "I think it would be poor manner not to warn Mr. Salvatore of my cousin's childish, immature ways." She flashed a smile, "He can do much better than that, I think."  
  
Toby laughed and backed away. "I have to go check on the horses, one of them is about to foal, ye ken?" He winked and turned, running down the corridor and leaving Shannon to look by herself at the entrance to the courtyard. 


	2. Chapter 2

**_"Now who's the light and who is the devil..."_ - (Powerman 5000, When Worlds Collide)**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 3  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

Another disappointment. After leaving Gretchen, Shannon had searched the guest rooms looking for Damon Salvatore, but he was no where to be found. She had asked the maids, the cooks and even some of the guests if they had seen this Damon Salvatore. No one had been able to help her, and now she was walking alone to the stables.

Her riding habit was something her father had given her for her eighteenth birthday last month. It was a nice outfit with sleek black pants and a cropped white shirt. The helmet was a pain to wear, and she usually hid it away in one of the stalls so that she could ride with her hair free in the wind.

She was fortunate to be the only daughter of a man who had four sons. She had been raised as if she were the fifth son. She had learned to ride like a man, fence like a man, and she was even allowed to wear mannish clothes when the family was not entertaining company or involved in a formal affair. Hence the reason why she was wearing pants and not a riding skirt.

As she cleared the crest of the hill the stable came into view. The stable lads were moving about feeding and grooming the horses. She spotted Toby next to one of the many stalls talking to a dark chestnut mare. He was wearing a stable lad's usual attire of a billowing, dusty shirt, and thick pants meant to withstand all the riding they did on a daily basis. His shoulder length auburn hair was pulled back with a worn leather band.

She watched him as he talked softly to the horse as if it were human. She noted that his hair was almost the same color as the horse's coat, and that his face was close to the horse's snout. His voice was low and calm. Soothing.

She took a step through the doorway of the stable causing the horse's ears immediately prick up, alert to her presence. Toby's head also turned toward the sound of her foot fall, but unlike the horse's obvious disappointment, he smiled looking happy to see her.

"Shannon," he looked her over, "you want to go out for a ride." He gestured to the chestnut mare. "This is the horse that is with child. She should be delivering soon."

Shannon joined him against the stall door offering her hand for the horse to sniff. "She is beautiful. What's her name?" She ran a hand over the smooth flank of the horse.

"Dharma."

"Dharma such as the laws that order the universe?" a male voice piped in, "or do you simply mean individual obligation? Though I do find it rather odd that such Christians, as the Drakes are, have horses named about Buddhist principles. Don't you think?" The man stepped out of the blinding sun and into the dimness of the stalls. "Hello," he smiled.

"Mr. Salvatore...." Toby began.

"Damon, please."

Toby nodded. "Damon, then. Did you come for your ride? I had Angus groom him this morning, he is all ready to ride."

Damon looked from Toby to Shannon, "Would the lady be joining me?"

Toby looked to Shannon for confirmation, but Shannon was already moving forward, hand extended. "Damon, my name is Shannon Drake, and I would be honored to join you on your afternoon ride."


	3. Chapter 3

**_"A shadow lies amongst you to defy the future cast..."_ - (Smashing Pumpkins, The End Is The Beginning Is The End)**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 4  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

Later that night, Shannon sat beside Damon in the dining hall, laughing over goblets of French wine. Gretchen sat across from them seething. Her own glass remaining full and untouched.

"....and then I said, 'Your Lordship I hardly think courting your daughter in means for a duel.'"

The table erupted in laughter, men hitting the table with dirks, goblets and fist, the women tittering behind their hands or laughing along with the men, in whoops of howls. Shannon turned her eyes to Damon, taking in the way his face shined when he laughed and the way his dark hair fell slightly into his eyes. He didn't laugh like the other men. While the clan Drake was loud and rough, Damon laughed softly almost to himself.

His eyes met hers, a slight smirk playing on his lips, he winked and turned back to the table.

Shannon looked down at her plate and briefly went over the highlights of the day in her mind. She and Damon had rode to one of the many open fields that scattered the Drake lands. Shannon had hoped that he would take advantage of the seclusion and attempt to kiss her. She would refuse, of course, but it would be fun to see him try. But he hadn't.

They talked. Talked about his travels around the world and growing up in Italy. They talked of her cousin Gretchen, a lot to Shannon's great disappointment. She had been pleasant though and replied to one of his questions, "I'll mention your name. She will be delighted to hear that she was in your thoughts this afternoon." Damon had only laughed and shook his head.

When they had returned to the castle, they had parted to dress for dinner. Shannon's maid had dressed her in one of the maroon dresses she was so fond of, and done her hair up in a graceful sweep to the atop her head. Shannon had thought the hair silly, but when Damon had seen it he complimented her on her rare beauty.

Damon had been friendly all day, treating her like a close friend or perhaps even a sister, but nothing like a love interest. Gretchen's seething were futile, wasted energy on a cause long put to rest. It was obvious by the day's conversation that Damon fancied Gretchen to Shannon. Shannon pondered on this thought.

A clatter shattered Shannon's thoughts, her head jerked up, and had only an instant notice before a wave of French wine spilled into her lap. She jumped back and out of her chair, but the damage had been done. A dark red liquid stained the lap of her dress. Her head snapped up to see the idiot that had been so clumsy and met Gretchen's eyes. Smugness hid behind the mask of regret and sorrow, an empty goblet in her hand, dripping with the very liquid that soaked her lap. "Gretchen..." she began, soft rage playing on the edges of her voice.

Damon stepped up, cupping Shannon's elbow in his palm and murmuring, "Now, now it would not be wise for one to lose ones temper over a little spilled wine."

Shannon turned her eyes on him, still dabbing at the puddle in her skirts vainly. "I am hardly presentable now." She turned, pulling away from Damon and going to the staircase for the west wing, but not before setting her eyes on Gretchen in, what she hoped, was a death glare. Instead of the withering she had hoped for, she was quickly put out as Damon cupped Gretchen's elbow, much like he had Shannon's.

Instead of murmuring in her ear though, he turned her towards the gardens, leaving Shannon, once again alone on the staircase.


	4. Chapter 4

**_"Lovely girl you're the murder in my world dressing coffins for the souls I've left behind"_ - (Smashing Pumpkins, Ava Adore)**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 5  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

Shannon slept late the next morning. She was only wakened by the soft click of the door as it closed shut behind someone. Thinking it Gretchen sneaking in after her night's excursions, Shannon pretended to be asleep, rolling over on her side.

"I know you aren't asleep," Damon's voice informed her. When she whipped around surprised he smiled and sat on the edge of Gretchen's empty bed. He was dressed in black slacks, with a white collared shirt tucked into the waist, and all that under a black formal coat, that hung to his knees and belted at the waist. His hair was carelessly tousled. "Who were you trying to fool?" He looked at the empty bed he was sitting on.

Shannon sat up, bracing her back on the pillows, running a hand through her hair to straighten it at least a little. "I think... why are you here Damon? I thought you would be with Gretchen." She shrugged and settled the quilt better around her.

He looked at her for a moment, making her feel queer. His eyes were black. _Blacker than night_, Shannon thought absently. When he was finished looking through her he said, "Why would I be with your cousin?" He smiled when he said it, making her feel foolish, and childish. She did not like the way he was making her feel, at all.

With a jerk that sent the quilts flying to the foot of the bed, Shannon was on her feet and making her way to the closet to grab her clothes and storm out of the room. "I don't like being made fun of," she said as she passed him, and uttered a cry of protest as his hand closed over her arm. She stopped, not fighting, not wanting to give the satisfaction of her struggle "Let go of my arm, Damon," she said through tightly clenched teeth.

Instead of letting go of her, he pulled her in, against his side. His breath was warm on her cheek. She turned to face him ever so slowly, knowing what would be the result of it. She wanted it, oh she wanted to kiss him terribly. She raised her own emerald eyes to meet the dark ones that were looking down at her already.

He took satisfaction at the sight of her eyes raises towards his. They were wide, but not all with fear. Apprehension. Need. Curiosity. Damon had seen the look in other's eyes throughout his escapades throughout Europe. "Shannon," he breathed her name, and released her arm, stepping away. "I was not with your cousin, last night. Nor will I trouble myself with her again."

"What is that suppose to mean?" she asked, gathering her own bearings and stepping back to breathe breath after cleansing breath through her nose.

"She rather bores me," he said lazily. "You know how she is, _mio scuro_." He smiled, turning, only pausing when her voice carried back to him.

"I know Italian. That was Italian, was it not?">

He half turned to her, his profile outlined against the dark wood of the door. Straight nose like a sculpture, mouth perfect if not a little cruel and brows and lashes dark and full. "Yes. I am Italian, after all. It only natural I know the language."

"I know the language too. I've had tutors, and Charles is Italian. The Bonnie Prince."

"I've heard of him. Do you have a point, Shannon?"

"Aye, I do. You called me your 'dark one.' What does that mean?"

He hadn't known she knew the language. He wouldn't of said it if he had known, but he had. So he turned to face her fully, his cruel lips now holding a cruel smile. "In time, _mio scuro_. In time, you will know."

He left.


	5. Chapter 5

**_"With this circus you'll need nothing more..."_ - (Sponge, Wax Ecstatic)**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 6  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

The day passed uneventful up until the late afternoon. The fields were washed in a glow of oranges and pinks, the sun just setting over the lands of Clan Drake. Shannon had spent most of her day at the stable with Toby. She had sat on the rails of the riding circles in her dusty riding dress, and watched Toby pitch hay into the horse's stalls. He had taken his shirt off, ignoring her mock cry at modesty, awarding her teasing with a simple grin. Shannon had enjoyed watching the muscles in his back work as he pitched endless mounds of heavy hay into the stalls that lined both walls of the stable. Twelve stalls and eleven horses, soon to be twelve when Dharma birthed her foul.

Toby had shared his lunch with her, a loaf of bread and orange cheese. He had spread a riding blanket for her to sit on, and he had sat beside her on the grass. They talked of many things, as they usually did, but Shannon had not mentioned her early morning visit with Damon. She had always been close to Toby, but she just didn't want to involve him with that aspect of her life.

It wasn't until she was walking home that she encountered conflict. She was just over the last hill, and the castle was in sight. She had her skirt bunched in her hands, so she could walk easier, and her hair was in a tidy ponytail at the back of her head. She thought she heard thunder, or the hooves of a horse on the grassy carpet of the glen, but when she turned she saw nothing. Standing erect on the crest of the hill, she dropped her skirts from her fists and raised a hand to her eyes. Scanning the glen she saw nothing. But she heard a whistle from behind her and turned around just in time to see Damon shooting across the lower field on top a black ride. A beautiful horse, which matched it's rider's darkness. Damon had on black riding pants and a white shirt, his hair was loose and the wings on the bangs were flying back with his speed. He looked remarkable. So breath-taking that Shannon just watched, and as she watched she saw him turn the horse towards her hill.

The horse slowed from gallop to a canter, to a bouncing trot as it made it's way up the hill. He pulled his horse up to her side, close enough that she brushed his leg, on his right hand side. Shannon lowered her hand slowly, raising her face to Damon's. She didn't smile, she didn't know how to feel. His manner that morning had been off, he had teased her with Gretchen, knowing it was a sore spot for her.

As thoughts of manners and how to act raced through her mind, Damon leaned down and cupped her chin in the palm of his hand, raising her already upturned face higher. He lowered his lips to hers, and as feelings overtook sensibilities she rose on her toes and pressed her mouth against his in return.

His mouth was sweet, full and demanding as it pressed against hers. His tongue caressed hers in light searching, and she all but melted at the flutters that started in her gut.

To him, she was like something burning and alive. He had thought long and hard all day of what to do with her, how to treat her, where to take her. In the end he had given up and decided to take a ride to clear his mind. Then there she was. As if waiting for him on that hill. It was a sign, to him. Her lips were full and soft on his, and they moved unhindered, unlike her cousin's, which were tight lipped and nervous. Something was starting high in his chest, a burning, a sensation that he didn't... couldn't describe. He pulled back.

Her eyes opened, she swallowed and licked her lips, lowering back to her feet. She wasn't sure what to do now, and almost turned to leave down the hill when his hand entered her vision. She looked up into his fathomless eyes, and saw whatever answer she needed to the unspoken question she didn't even know. She reached up, and grabbed ahold his wrist as he pulled her up behind him.

As she settled onto the rump of his horse, she wrapped her arms around his waist, holding on to him as he gave a sharp kick to the horse's flanks.

The horse started and took off down the hill, sending them into the awaiting darkness of the glen.


	6. Chapter 6

**_"Death of a future"_ - (Bush, Bomb)**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 7  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

Damon stopped once they reached a covered nook. The heather was thick there and two trees hung into each other, their branches intertwined like lover's fingers. There was also a small creek that whispered over smooth stones.

He dismounted, reaching up and taking Shannon by the waist, lifting her effortlessly down. His hands lingered on her hips, the line of his body hovered, barely touching. His right hand came up, touched her cheek and ran back over her hair, smoothing back the strands that had risen in the wind of their ride. Her green eyes rose meeting his dark ones, she caught the sharp narrowing of his eyes and then he was gone, turning back to the horse, bending down to hobble it.

Shannon sighed to herself and went to the creek. Her skirt was rumpled and dusty; her hands were ashy, smudged with dirt, As she dipped her hands into the cool water she regressed to the events of the day.

It was like a fairy tale, she thought. Handsome prince rising up on his strong horse and sweeping away the fair maiden. Shannon smiled at the thought of herself as a fair maiden. His kiss, the feel of his back, strong and warm against her cheek as he drove his horse over the deserted glen.

"Is something funny?" a voice dry and cultured through her daydream. Damon dropped down beside her gracefully, almost like a cat.

_She must of been really dreaming_, she noted, _she hadn't heard him approach_. "No," she said, removing her hands from the water and wiping her chilled fingers on her skirt. "I was just thinking how upset Gretchen will be when she hears I rode off with you."

Damon made a face somewhere between disgust and amusement. "I thought I had told you I was finished with your cousin."

"You may be finished with her, but she is still going to persist and be upset." She shrugged, waving a dismissive hand, "It does not matter, and I would rather forget about her. I find the topic unpleasant."

He smirked, "Unpleasant. Shannon--"

"Yes?" she jumped in, interrupting him and then blushing furiously and cursing herself from being so immature, acting as if she'd never been given an interest from a man before. She bit her lower lip and mumbled a weak, "Sorry, go on."

He took her hand to his lips and smiled, taking joy at the parting on her lips, and the sharp intake of breath that followed. "I have thought long and hard about telling you about me. You should understand that I have never told anyone about my complete past. It is something I keep to myself, it is something that is not considered pleasant to most. It is who I am, and I would like to share it with you."

His face had become so serious it made Shannon question what could possibly be in his past that made him look so serious, yet vaguely smug and proud. She thought about her past: she was born, she had been raised on the Drake estate by her father, she was who she was now. Nothing very interesting.

"Damon," she smiled, "it is not like you killed someone. Seriously." She raises his hand to her lips now, met his eyes and almost froze.

His eyes were heated and his lip was curved cruelly. "Oh no, it is not like I did _that_."


	7. Chapter 7

**_To Wendy, my love Bunny. You scare me when you say this story sucks._**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 8  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

****

Florence, Italy - Somewhere in the Mid-16th Century

Katherine von Swartzchild sat at her private vanity table in the Salvatore estate brushing her length of pale, golden blond hair. Dark blue, wide eyes, surrounded by thick black lash gazed back at her in the mirror. Setting the heavy silver brush down on the vanity table she leaned forward to inspect her flawless, pale skin, that showed only the hint of color in her cheeks.

"Fever," was her father's explanation for the wash of rose over her skin.

Blood, literal warm blood was the true reason. She was a vampire. Katherine's lips tightened just the slightest as the word echoed through her mind. Vampire, vampire, vampire.... She hated the word, she hated the responsibilities it took to maintain her "health." She had been dying before her nurse maid Gudren had come to her in the middle of the night with.... Katherine shook her head, clearing the image of the man in the tattered and frayed trench coat. The man, whose icy blue eyes, had stared down at her with hunger.

The invasion of mind had not pleasant, the invasion of body had been worse. And all her loyal maid could do was stand over and watch as the man with the shaggy blond hair had violated her patient.

Yet, Katherine was not ungrateful. She was alive, and would be for many, many years to come. And soon... she smiled impishly into the mirror... soon she would have a friend for all eternity and live blissfully for all her years. Soon, she would have Stefan by her side. And then she would have the courage to leave her beloved father. At the thought of her father, her heart softened and she sighed sadly.

Thinking of leaving her father always made her sad. Her eyes, reflected in the mirror, were sad as well, so she closed them softly and reached for her hair brush. Brushing her hair always soothed her. When she was ill in bed, her nurse maid would sit and brush her hair for hours until it was silky, smooth.

As her fingers curled over the silver handle of the brush, warm fingers curled around hers. Her eyes flew open, meeting Stefan's in the mirror... or...

"Damon," Damon said, smiling slowly. "You must be Katherine. My father mentioned you in a letter I received at university. You look rather well for a girl in such a serious condition." He tilted his head to the side, eyes skimming over her face. "I trust my dear baby brother mentioned me to you?" His eyes were hot with contempt, and his reference to Stefan was equally scornful.

With a jerk, Katherine removed her hand from the hair brush and his touch. "Yes, Stefan did mention he had a brother in university," she said carefully. "He did say you would be return home soon. That you... were... in trouble... with some of the authorities in your university." She lowered her eyes from the mirror and focused them on her clasped hands in her lap. She could feel the blush creeping up her neck, having nothing to do with her condition and all to do with embarrassment and a hint of shame. Damon resembled his brother in an uncanny fashion. Slightly shorter maybe, and his hair was straight, not curled like Stefan's. His eyes were black and not the emerald green of his younger brother's. But the main difference was the face. Stefan's had always been full of emotion. When he was with her, his face was always open, pleasant, kind. Damon's was anything but that. His lips were cruel when he mentioned Stefan, and they seemed bent on a smirk. He looked smug.

"I see," Damon said slowly, stepping back from the vanity. "I do have my father to speak to about these 'troubles with authorities' so if you will excuse me." He reached down and took her hand, gently prying it away from the other and raised it to his lips, holding it there until her eyes slowly rose to his. He smiled, keeping her hand locked in his, " I do look forward to seeing you again, _buono arrivederci_."

When he was completely vacant from the room, Katherine lowered her hand and sighed, when she looked in the mirror her eyes were dark and her cheeks were pale. Damon. She smiled girlishly. Damon. Lifting the brush she pulled it quickly through her hair and paused again. Stefan. She was in love with Stefan.

Then why had Damon excited her? The mere thoughts of Stefan and Damon gave her similar flashes of hot and cold, and a quick fluttering in her lower stomach. She needed to see Stefan. If she saw him, she would be reassured. If she saw him, the presence of Damon would be erased from her mind. Green eyes flashed black and then again in her mind's eye.

She set the brush down, and smoothed out her new gold and white dress. Her favorite dress. She would go see Stefan, and reassure herself that Damon was an object of unimportance.

****


	8. Chapter 8

**_To everyone who worked on Rurouni Kenshin, an anime I am obsessed with, thank you for everything. The music inspires my writing, and they are all so damn cute._**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 9  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

****

Florence, Italy - Somewhere in the Mid-16th Century

Damon's lip curled in arrogance at his father, who held his chin in his hand and his eyes locked on his eldest son's. The conversation was beginning to annoy him. He was about to express just _what_ he thought of Giuseppe, Conti di Salvatore's high opinion of the university life, when a soft step broke through the tension. It was a moment before the Conti turned and released his grip on his eldest's chin, his expression lighted.

Stefan, who had been in the room to witness the clash between father and son made a sound at Katherine's hesitate move to leave the room. "Katherine," Stefan said with a small smile, "don't go. Stay." He looked over his shoulder to the now separated father and son, as if for confirmation.

Giuseppe stepped up, straightened the folds of his attire, and bowed slightly to Katherine. "It is a pleasure to see you, little Katherine. I see so little of you during the day, and you look so pale. I trust that you are not ill again, I hope."

Katherine touched her cheek vainly and smiled at the Conti. "No sir, I am always pale as you know. I do not use rouge like your bold Italian girls." Her eyes closed softly for a moment, and when they opened she smiled at the Conti.

Stefan, who was now looking at his father, smiled as well. Katherine's secret was safe with him, he would never tell. He knew how her cheeks reddened to a light rose after she had taken her "medicine" as she called it. He did not know the ways of her new condition yet, and he knew that she was upset with the means she had to take to maintain her health. But Stefan did not care. He loved her, he wished to marry her. Their father's had been speaking of marriage for months.

The Conti motioned to a servant. "You must excuse me little Katherine, I have business to attend to before we dine tonight." He looked at Damon, who had been standing patiently to the side, "We will speak later." Giuseppe left, along with his servant, leaving his last comment floating in the air.

Stefan turned back to Katherine, hoping to invite her for a walk through their gardens, and to perhaps visit her favorite spot, a lemon tree beside a low wall overlooking the olive groves. His eyes rose to her face and he warmed at the small, secret smile that played on her lips. It took him a moment to notice that her eyes were not on him, that the smile was not for him. Slowly his head turned. Behind him. To Damon. Damon, who had his own arrogant smile, playing on his lips.

His head turned back to Katherine quickly, but she was already moving step by agonizing slow step toward Damon, her favorite gold and white dress whispering across the Italian tiles.

Damon extended a hand to her, and she took it lightly in her own. As they passed, one of the folds in Damon's coat brushed against Stefan's arm. In the instant, Stefan was tempted beyond reason to grab Damon and smash his perfect beauty to the floor, to make that triumphant smile shatter. But all he could do was watch, silently, as Katherine and Damon entered the gardens, hand in hand, and the door close behind them. Leaving Stefan alone.

****

Scotland - 1744

Shannon Drake was looking at Damon Salvatore with a stunned look on her face. She had been engulfed in his story, which he told with rare, vivid ability. After a moment, when she realized he was not going to continue, she spoke, "Damon... you cannot be telling the truth. I look at you and you appear not a day older than two and ten, twenty. You are talking about a time that is almost two hundred years ago. I learned of the Italian Renaissance, but you know so much more than I could ever know. You speak as though you lived there."

He looked at her for a moment and then spoke matter-of-factly, "It is a true story Shannon, I _did_ live there."

Her sharp, quickly fading laugh assaulted his ears. "You are fooling me." She looked at him, and when she saw his face the same as it had been, saw that her words passed through him, not affecting his outer appearance she went on to say, "Very well, Mr. Salvatore, pray tell how you have preserved yourself for almost two hundred years."

He smiled then, his eyes danced, and then he looked away towards his horse who was grazing across the glen. The sun was barely grazing the horizon, they had a few hours left until night fall. "Very well, _contessa_, I will continue the story of my life."

He faced her, and continued.


	9. Chapter 9

**_To Casey, you don't always understand me, and you think I am mean, but you are the best friend a girl could have._**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 10  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

****

Florence, Italy - Somewhere in the Mid-16th Century

The evening had been wonderful for Katherine. She had entered the room in search of Stefan, and though he had been there, her eyes could only look upon Damon. He had lounged in his father's furious embrace, and smiled pure arrogance, not denying any of his father's accusations. It was in that moment, looking upon him, that Katherine knew that she wanted him as well. She was in love with both brothers, and she wanted them both. They could all three live together in harmony and happiness. Live forever, for whoever she was to be with had to accept her as she now was. He had to become like her, a vampire. Living for all eternity, feeding off the blood of the living.

She knew Stefan would become like her. He had professed his love and loyal acceptance of her. She was sure that Damon would accept her too. She had told him the entire story of what she was and how she had came to be. He had looked on, listening intently, as she spoke of everything she now could and could not do.

Looking up at the painted ceiling above her bed, Katherine stretched her limbs. Tomorrow she would share her secrets with the brothers, and tell them her plans for them. She could imagine everything now. They could live in Germany, or France. All three of them. They would always have each other and she would always have them by her side. She sighed... eternity was a long time.

She fell into the light sleep she always seemed to fall into around the time just before dawn. Her mind was dreamless, her thoughts a steady line of nothingness. She slept till mid-afternoon.

****

Damon paced the length of the Salvatore greeting. A light frown across his face as he waited for Katherine to come downstairs. He had been up since dawn, eager to see her again. A soft scrape of shoe had him turning around quickly, but his face did not smile, instead it twisted into a sneer or arrogance, "Katherine it is so nice to see you again. _Brother_."

Stefan had Katherine's hand tucked in the crook of his arm. He immediately tightened his hold on her when Damon stepped closer, his own hand extended. "Katherine," Damon purred, "would you like to go walking again? Join the company of a much more worthy fellow?" His smile was sweet, edged with smug pleasure when she removed herself from Stefan and stood between the two brothers.

"Damon," she smiled, "and Stefan, I have something I would like to share with you." She walked softly over to a low sitting chair, covered in dark maroon silk and gold trim. She sat carefully, in perfect posture and looked up at both brothers. Her brilliant dark blue eyes wide and innocent. "I am not well, as you both know," she began.

Stefan's eyes reflected his own smuggness now. _He_ knew what she meant by that. Damon only thought that she was ill, as did everyone else. Damon was smiling though, taking her pale hand in his own and lowering his lips, "Ah yes. Your _condition_. How unfortunate that you will soon have to leave your father, and your entire life behind. To begin a new one, in a new world. Certainly you wish to have a worldly man at your side." His eyes slanted up at Stefan, and he said scornfully, "Not a man lost in his studies and loyalty to country. When you leave, you will have no need for such practices."

Stefan's heart seemed to freeze in his chest, color rose to his face as he pointed a finger at Damon, who still help Katherine's hand in his own. "You told _him_!? Katherine, you trusted him with your secret? Why? I thought.... no Katherine, tell me you did not share with him _our_ secret..."

"_Your_ secret?" Damon laughed, and pulled Katherine to her feet lightly by her hand. "Katherine obviously is able to recognize where she has the best advantage to survive in this vast world. You no longer share such a wonderful secret, _brother_, the secret is now ours." His smile to Katherine was knowing, sure and arrogant. He knew when he had made a conquer.

Katherine had watched the brothers as they exchanged bitterness over her. Now her eyes dampened slightly, and she withdrew her hand from Damon's clutching it, with the other, before her. "Whoever I am with, will have to become like me." She startled when both brothers hurried on to say that _they_ were the one who could accept her gift willingly.

She appealed to Stefan. "Stefan, please, let me finish before you say another word. My choice is simple, and it will please everyone involved." Damon snorted but let her continue without further interruption. She stood straight and smiled sweetly, like a child who got their one wish for Christmas, "I choose you both." She reached forward grabbing one of each brother's hands and smiled wider, almost bouncing in her elation. "Oh don't you see! We will live together forever, for always! We will be blissfully together from now until forever. So you see? I want you both, we can all be happy, now." Her smile was blinding and the joy in her heart almost hurt. But when she saw the same look of horror and disgust reflected in the face if both brothers, her smile disappeared and the joy was overcome by sadness so sharp and painful that her eyes spilled over with tears.

"You do not like my choice?" Her voice was soft.

Damon spoke flatly, "I'd rather see him dead than spend the rest of my life with him."

Stefan's eyes narrowed, "As would I." He turned to Katherine, "You are not serious."

"Oh but I am..." She looked miserable and heart broken. "I love you both."

Though the words were daggers in his heart Stefan was the one to strike the last blow, "Then you must make a decision. Pick one, or neither. It can never be both."

"And it must be made by Sunday evening, no later," Damon added coldly.

"Sunday then. I must retire..." Tears streaming down her pale cheek, Katherine fled in a whirl of skirts and gold, blond hair.

****


	10. Chapter 10

**_To Mare, you're the best big sister a little brother could have!_**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 11  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

****

Florence, Italy - Somewhere in the Mid-16th Century 

The days leading to Sunday were long, so long that the pressure to wait on both brothers was almost impossible. The only reassurance, for Damon, came on Thursday strokes before the sun rose to greet a new day. 

There was a soft click of his door shutting, and then the light scatter of bare feet and gown on the tiles. Then his sheets parted welcoming in cool air against his bare flesh, and soon after Katherine's slightly cool form molded to his side. She huddled against him, her head bowed against his chest, lightly resting on his shoulder. She was in his bed, with only a light sleeping gown separating her flesh from his. 

Damon fought to control the smile on his face and rise of victory that swelled in his chest. He brought his fingers up to her chin, and tilted her head back slightly, exposing her pale pink lips to him. He kissed her, parting her lips with the slight urging of his tongue. She responded, taking his tongue and caressing it in return with hers. Her delicate hands rose to his hair, fingers locking in the silky dark tresses. Only when a soft whimper escaped her lips did she climb on top of him, rising above him, and looking down at him with dark blue eyes and innocence across her face. 

Katherine trailed a finger down the center of Damon's face. Down his nose, across his lips and down the side of his throat. She leaned down over him, licking the side of his throat, kissing and then biting, then drinking. 

The pain was a sharp one then quickly passing, overtaken by the light and emotion in Katherine's mind. After what seemed like hours, she released him and, pulling down her gown, exposing one snow white breast and rose nipple. Her nail trailed across the crest, leaving a dark red, quickly seeping line in it's wake. She guided his mouth to the cut, and he drank. Drank deeply, until he thought he would burst, and then she was pulling him away, easing his lethargic body back against his pillows, and climbing out of his bed. She exited his chambers as quietly as she had come, and Damon fell into a sleep, that lasted until the next night. 

****

When the sun kissed the horizon at dusk Sunday night Damon, rose from his sitting place on the balcony of his chamber. He slipped on the ring he had found on his dresser when he awoke after his night with Katherine. It was a beautiful ring of thick silver and a dark blue stone - lapis lazuli - that matched Katherine's eyes. He slide his hand into the pocket of his tailored gown. He went directly to Katherine's chambers and was confronted by a stoned face nurse maid, Gudren and his own weak faced, unknowing little brother. 

He looked at the maid defiantly and laid a hand on the door knob to Katherine's room, only to be struck smartly across the back of his hand with Gudren's fan. "My lady is not in there." Her expression was intense, anxious, and angry. She was not happy with the state the two boys had put her lady in. 

Damon's lips curled, almost in disgust at Gudren, but his voice was mockingly sweet, "Then were is your lady?" 

"She is out in the gardens. You two boys," she started, waving her fan first in Damon's face and then Stefan's, "you two boys have upset my mistress. You should be ashamed of your behavior. Especially you!" She turned on Stefan giving him a hefty jab in the chest with the end of her fan. "She loved you. That one... " she turned beady, glaring muddy brown eyes on Damon, "... that one was nothing but trouble to my mistress. If I had my way..." She broke off as both brothers pushed past her, making way to the garden. 

The sun was high when Damon entered the garden from the west entrance. "Katherine!" he called as he hurried through the tangle of trees and flowering bushes. 

"Katherine!" Stefan called out beside him, and Damon turned to him sneering. "Go inside, brother, you should know by now who she has chosen." 

"Yes I do." Stefan thrust his right hand up showing the thick silver and blue jeweled ring, much like Damon's. "She has chosen me, brother, so I suggest you go inside." 

Damon thrust up his own hand, taking in the minimal pleasure of Stefan's shock. Then he turned and called her name again, "Katherine!" 

Stefan broke off the main path and a moment later the shriek of agony reached Damon's ears. He quickly made his way toward it and was hit by the awful smell of burned fat. He threw up a hand to cover his nose and mouth, and saw the reason of Stefan's yell. Below the lemon tree, where Damon had taken Katherine for their first kiss, was Katherine's favorite white and gold dress.... vacant of the owner. 

There was also a small gold ring and a letter beside the dress. Damon thrust his hand down and seized the note, and Stefan reached for the ring and held it tightly in his fist. Damon read softly: 

_"My dearest loves who have damned us all:  
My love was not enough to remedy this bitterness between you.  
May my death solve it.  
My love, and heart: Katherine"_

Stefan looked up as Damon dropped the letter to the ground. "You! You arrogant, selfish bastard. Look what you did! Look what you did...." He rose and pushed Damon forcefully in the chest, his face a mask of hatred, rage and killer intent. "I loved her! You... you... you tainted her life and you taint her death." 

Damon's face transformed, he said nothing but his face spoke with the words he did not utter. His eyes were the blackest black and his lips were curled in disgust. How he hated his brother and his words then. So much that he whirled on boot heels and made his way quickly to the house. When he reached the greeting room he snatched his sword from the holder against the wall. He intended to murder his brother, not duel, but Stefan had come to face him, his own sword in his hands. 

A shout from above went unnoticed. Servants and maids fled the room and their father came to the doorway, shouting for his sons to cease. But Damon would have none of that. He wanted blood, his brother's blood. His brother's face could of been a mirror, reflecting hate and rage that Damon's soul was shouting. 

They fought. Steel clashed with steel, curses were shouted. People were shouting all around them, the room was a loud and hot hell. Stefan's thrust caught Damon across the arm, and he almost fell, but his opening came when Stefan thought he had been victorious. Stefan's thrust had pushed him past Damon's left side, and Stefan's back was open. Before Stefan could recover from his mighty thrust, Damon's sword turned and came down on Stefan. 

The thrust was mortal and Damon knew it when the tip of his sword hit tile. He had gone completely through Stefan's side, and warm blood gushed over his hand. Stefan staggered and fell as Damon pulled his blood soaked sword from his own brother's body. 

Stefan fell face first, and was quickly turned over with a kick to the side by Damon's boot. The shouts had become mere background music as Damon delivered his last dialogue to his little brother. With Stefan's eyes on him, he drew his finger across the blade of his sword and rose a finger, dripping in Stefan's blood, to his lips. His smile was the cruelest it had ever been. "And now, little brother," he said softly, standing over Stefan's fallen body, "now the taint of her life is gone, and her legacy will continue." He drew his tongue across his finger and cleaned his finger of blood. He laughed, threw his head back and laughed louder and harder.... and gasped, his eyes flying open and his body bending over the blade implanted in his mid-section. 

Stefan, his last bit of energy before the veil of death fell over his eyes, had thrust his sword through his own brother's body. Damon fell beside him, on his front, forcing the forgotten blade of Stefan Salvatore further into his body. And as the blood of the brother's pooled and mixed across the tiles of the Salvatore estate in Renaissance Italy, the story had only begun. 

****


	11. Chapter 11

**_To my wonderful sis-mom Juliet. We both know what it means to have shitty roommates._**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 12  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

****

Scotland - 1744 

Damon stopped. His last words hung in the air, the last scene played again in Shannon's mind. Two dark haired boys fighting to the death over a woman neither of them could have. They had killed each other. 

Shannon shook the image from her head and looked at Damon who was looking at her with dark eyes. "I don't believe it," she said to him. She shook her head again, hard enough to make her loose dark hair fly around her shoulders, "Everything you said was not impossible, but some of it was. I don't know why you had to twist such an awful story further, but if you were trying to impress me or..... or.... it just isn't the truth." 

Damon looked at her silently for just a moment longer and then stood, looking out over the glen which was now glazed in a purple light, the stars just beginning to make pin pricks of light on the horizen. "The moon rises, and your family will be expecting you for dinner... and," he looked over his shoulder at her, his mouth curved in a wicked smile, "I need to find my own dinner. Your cousin, Gretchen, was a tasty snack, maybe I should seek her out? What do you think Shannon?" 

"You will not!" She stood, her skirts not slowing her approach on him. If he had even dared lay a finger on her cousin and drink.... 

His voice interuppted her, "I thought you didn't believe my story?" His voice was smug, he had received the reaction he had wanted from her. Now he waited for her explaination. 

Instead of explaining herself, Shannon went to the horse and loosened the hobble, looping the rope around the horn of the saddle. She pulled herself up into the saddle, not waiting for Damon to hold her stirrups or give her a boost. She sat tall and proud in the saddle, giving off the air that she needn't impress or explain herself to anyone. "We are missing dinner, and my father will worry. I ask you to return with me, but if you don't...." She shrugged. "If you don't, just stay away from my cousin." She steered the horse and didn't look back until she reached the crest of the hill. The scene below made her strain her eyes, Damon was nowhere in sight. He had vanished into thin air, one may say. 

A sharp "caw" made her look up to where the moon was urging itself into the night sky. A crow rose and flew towards the stables. Crows were supersitious birds, bad omens. If Shannon believed in that, which she didn't, she might of taken it as a sign. She kicked her horse's sides and urged it into a slow canter towards the house. 

****

Toby was sitting outside the Drake estate when Shannon walked up through the courtyard. She had been gone for a very long time, since late afternoon. Her hair was loose and tangled from riding and her skirt dusty. She approached alone, her chin was high. She always walked like that when she was upset about something. If no one else could tell, Toby could. He had practically been raised with her. 

He stood and bowed at the waist, as was custom when one of the immediate Drake clan members approached, "Lady Shannon." He waited a moment until one of the other servants, a cook maid, retreated into the kitchen. "Where the hell have ye been? I was worried sick, when ye didna show up for dinner." He resisted the very strong urge to grab her arm and shake her. He had been worried, that was true, but he had seen her on the horse with Salvatore, which did more than just worry him. 

Shannon's eyes narrowed, but she shrugged lightly and looked away. "I went for a ride with Damon and we lost track of time. Have you seen him? Not that it matters." 

"I bet it doesn't." 

Shannon sighed, "Look Toby, I don't have the patience to be arguing with you. I understand that you were worried, and I'm sorry I worried you, but it was really nothing to worry about. I'm not interested in liars, or people who make up fanciful stories to impress people. Damon is both and ... you don't have to worry." She smiled and took his hand, giving it a squeeze and asked with an air of mischief in her voice, "What did Gretel say when she noticed neither Damon or I was at dinner? I bet she had a fit." 

He couldn't help but smile at her, she was lovely when she smiled, and her hair bounced along with her body when she got excited. "She asked everyone where you were. I told her you and Damon had ridden off towards the Loch together, and she dinna like that much." He rubbed his right cheek, where Gretchen had slapped him sharply. "She slapped me." He laughed, afterall the facial reaction of Gretchen was worth a thousand slaps. 

Shannon's hand went to Toby's and pulled it away from his cheek. She smiled at him, and stroked his wounded cheek lightly. "She hasn't seen me yet. How about I don't sleep in my bed tonight. I can come in tomorrow morning. See what she says about that, aye?" 

His eyes darkened, brown sweeping into darker shades. "I think it will be a great joke. I say that is what the lass gets for slapping me." 

"And for teasing me with Damon." She nodded, lowered her hand from his cheek and took up his hand. Turning, she lead Toby with her to the stables, where she would spend the night. 

****

From above the courtyard, a window held the figure of Gretchen Drake. Blond hair pulled into a braid, blue eyes snapping in disgust and annoyance. She had watched as Shannon walked across the courtyard alone, and as she had talked to Toby. Then her eyes had narrowed with intrest and a little more disgust. Shannon was leading Toby by the hand, out of the courtyard. To the stables? Or to some covered nook in the glen? Her cousin, the "honorable" Shannon Drake was no more than a common whore. First pushing herself on a guest and now their own stable hand. What would her uncle, the cheiftain of the clan, have to say about his only daughter bedding with practically anything that flew her way? And a servant of all people. Not only a servant but a dusty, smelly stable boy. Well, Gretchen thought with a smile, if her father, Lord Drake, wasn't all too upset, she was sure Damon Salvatore would be. 

****

Damon paced. He walked the confines of his room numorous times, before stopping in front of the mirror. Dark eyes stared back at him. His eyes skimmed over his pale features, and his tousled hair. His eyes met the mirror's again and he pulled back. 

He had never told his story to anyone before, and there was more to tell, but first he had to make her believe. Believe that vampires were real, that they existed in the same world as mortals did, and that he, Damon Salvatore, was a vampire. The story was all true. His brother was still "alive" and roaming the Italy, which he had failed to leave even after his death. Stefan was still in Italy, and Damon had made it clear to him that if he ever saw Stefan or felt his presense, that he would kill him. Kill him for good, there would not be a third chance for Stefan Salvatore if Damon got his hands... and teeth... on him. 

Katherine was very much real. She still lived in his heart, and her name... the thoughts of her made a slowly dulling pain pound near his heart. A pain he would not admit to anyone, not even Shannon. She could assume what she liked about the short, but very real relationship he had had with Katherine von Swartzchild. Katherine was dead, killed by her own hand, burned to rank ashes in the bottom of her favorite gown. Katherine's ring had gone with Stefan. One day Damon would have the ring in his fist. But until then he was not one to wallow in the pain of the past, as Stefan seemed to do, and had done for the last 200 or so years. 

He moved to the bed and lay down, his long body stretched across the red and green print cover. He curled his hands behind his head and began to think out a plan for Shannon. He had decided that there was something in the girl he wanted. Just changing her would be good for him, he decided. To show her that her denial of the vampire was foolish. His mouth curled into a smile, and he closed his eyes, letting light laughter dribble from his lips. It would almost be ironic, and he was sure she wouldn't believe anything unless he showed her. So he would show her, and it would be an emotionless act. Not entirely, no he would take pleasure in proving her wrong. And in the end? He'd think about that when it arose, when the act was done. First, though, he had to make a trip over to England. That would take several days, and if he left tonight, he could be there by mid-afternoon tomorrow. 

He stood, and had to admit that one of the best perks of being a vampire was that tomorrow never died. 

****


	12. Chapter 12

**_To the dork who pulled the fire alarm while I was in the middle of writing this._**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 13  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

****

Scotland - 1744 

Shannon and Gretchen's plan did not go as they had expected. 

When Shannon entered the room she shared with her cousin Gretchen she was disappointed to see that her cousin was fully dressed and sitting on the bed as if waiting for her. She had an annoyed look on her face. 

"Where were you last night?" Gretchen asked, knowing it was the question Shannon was hoping for. 

"Oh no where special...." Shannon smiled. 

"Do you know where Mr. Salvatore went?" 

"What do you mean?" A little bit of anxiety working it's way through Shannon's voice. 

"I mean," Gretchen huffed out, more annoyed than she let on. Her plans had been foiled as well, "He is gone. As in, I asked your father why he was not present at dinner or breakfast this morning and he said because Damon had left the estate, and Scotland." 

Shannon sunk to a chair positioned against the wall next to the door. It was a beautiful chair, high backed and upholstered with dark maroon silky fabric with paislies. The trim was done in gold. Shannon loved the chair, but right now all she could think about was Damon. He had left without say 'goodbye', left without a word, not even a note. She had left him angry, and now.... Now he may be gone forever. How would she ever find him? The question repeated itself, as if mocking her, until Gretchen's bark of chatter broke through the veil of thought. 

"I saw you walk away with Toby last night," she said it conversationally, but her lips were curved in disgust. "I suppose that is where you were last night. Shannon I thought you above the help, I guess I was wrong. I thought you had better taste than some... some dirty, horse smelling, flea ridden.... disgusting...." She just could not express her disgust enough. 

"Don't talk about Toby that way," her voice was quiet, her eyes staring unseeingly at the bedspread of Gretchen's bed. She blinked several times and focused on Gretchen, "I mean it." 

Pursing her lips Gretchen shrugged. "Aye, yes Shannon. I won't speak about your best friend, who just happens to be help, and who happens to be the one you spent all last night with... alone... in the hay." With a disgusted sound she repeated, "In the hay!" 

Shannon pushed her cousin's insults aside with a distracted hand wave. She was to busy thinking of other things to be angered by Gretel's insulting jabs. The fact that Shannon was ignoring Gretchen's well thought out insults annoyed her even more, so much that Gretchen grabbed her sun bonnet from the bed post and stormed out, not forgetting to make the door close with a loud slam behind her. 

The door made Shannon look up but she did not give her angered cousin another thought as she went to her own bed, and lay down across it, not caring if the hay and dust from her well soiled skirts ruined the bed quilts. She had made a mistake, she knew that now. She should not of left Damon the way she had, riding off on his horse, and making him walk back to the estate. Furthermore she should of given him more credit. His story, no matter how ridiculous it might sound, was something he believed. He spoke with such clarity and conviction and.... knowledge... that even to her level mind the story rang of some truth. Perhaps he did have a brother, Stefan, who he disliked. She didn't doubt he was part of the aristocracy found on the elite Italian countryside, he had the manner and accent to prove that a truth. What she had trouble comprehending was the nonsense about vampires, drinking blood, killing a brother and that girl.... Katherine... the story was a tragedy, she would not fool herself in seeing the romantic side of the story. The girl had been an idiot, doing nothing more than causing more anger and hate between the already feuding brothers..... 

With a jerk Shannon woke up. The bright day had turned into a warm night. It was night, full night. She must of fallen asleep. Shannon ran a hand back through her length of jet black waves of hair and looked to the unoccupied bed beside her. Gretchen was still upset, it appeared. She should really apologize to her before any real, permanent problems arose. Gretchen and her had always been good natured enemies, constantly poking fun at the other and foiling the other's pranks. As of recent though, the "good-natured joking" had taken on a more personal turn. That was not much of a surprise, as seeing that Damon Salvatore was the first male the girls had ever shown a mutual interest in. Before, for Shannon, there had always been... well... just Toby. He had never been anything romantic, though. Always a friend, a boy she had grown up with. They were close. Gretchen looked down on that relationship. Gretchen was stuck up, Shannon had come to realize early on. 

Shannon pulled her legs over the edge of the bed, so they dangled slightly, almost touching the floor. A bath was needed and, at the rumble of her stomach, food. She stumbled the vanity they shared and lit a dwindling candle, the flame sprung and cast warm light over her features in the mirror. She looked tired. A yawn confirmed that. 

She let the candle burn, and bent in front of the peat furnace. Gretchen would make one of the chamber maids do this, but Shannon lit the peat on her own, striking the flint and opening the furnace door so the thick smoke could escape through a chimney in the roof. She watched the peat shift as is heated, and listened the faint crackle. Then she stood, striped and wrapped herself in a heavy bath cloak of dark red velvet. It was long enough to trail behind her as she walked from her room the bathing room. Now, she pulled the thin cord that would ring a bell to summon a chamber maid. She had no energy to haul and heat water tonight. She sat on the bench facing the basin where her washing would commence, and waited for the maid to come. 

*********

Damon stood in the shadowed doorway of the English brothel and drew in the scent of aroused, dirty women. He hated gutter holes like this, unfortunately his current company did not. He looked over his shoulder, through the open doorway to Char, who was paying the house mother in small copper coins. When he completed the transaction he joined Damon on the doorstep, closed the door, cutting off the stronger scents that permeated the establishment. 

Char tilted his head the left and lit a cigarette, the flame from the flint enlighted his handsome features for a moment. He took his time with the first drag, exhaled a cloud of smoke skyward and turned to Damon, a pleasant smile on his face. "So, my friend, what do I owe this occasion too? It isn't ever day you stop by to see me." His english accent was thick, and cultured. Charles Dalmantia was an educated man, born and raised in a wealthy home. He had abandoned such luxuries when he became immortal, a vampire like Damon. Charles, who always went by Char now, had met Damon just after he had joined the Renegade Warriors, which were known throughout Europe as the Rens. 

The Rens were a band of thieves, murderers, rapist and scum alike, roving across Europe like a plague. They plundered, burned and threw havoc across the continent. Damon was not the leader of this mismatched group of sin, but he was highly respected and looked up to by the members. Damon never seemed to get caught, and always seemed to be there when another member got in trouble. He killed in silence, and the killings always seemed to make him stronger. It was later, as the Rens started to go separate ways, that Damon had revealed his secret to Char. 

The trust and friendship did not appear over night. 

When Char had entered the group around the age of twenty, he was experienced only with a pistol. He had fought minor duels over petty things like stolen chickens and jealous husbands, but guns were not allowed in the Rens. They caused to much noise when fired, something the Rens just could not have. The weapon of choice among the Rens, was the blade. Dagger and sword alike, the blade was a silent killer, never failing those who used and appreciated it well. 

The moment of friendship sprung when the Rens were in the process of raiding a small village on the outskirts of Germany. Char had entered a home, intent on leaving with some pocket change, maybe even a nice sized jewel. When he had crossed the threshold of the establishment he had only slight warning before a wooden chair had been smashed over his skull. Though he was immortal, the impact of the chair had dazed him, the fact that it was wood left him unconscious and bleeding from a head wound on the floor. The attacker, a middle aged man intent on saving his family was overcome with a sense of victory as Char lay, bleeding on the ground at his feet. He celebrated prematurely. He was dead, on the floor beside Char, two minutes later. 

The head of the home killed by Damon's casual hand, had the rest of the family in panic. They ran from their house, unbothered by Damon who had knelt by Char, turning him over. His head had been opened from left eyebrow to right temple. The cut bled continuously. He may of died, if it had not been for Damon's care. 

Later when he awoke Damon was beside his bed, reading a book. He had set the book down, regarded Char almost boredly. Then he smiled and said, "Welcome back to the living, if you can call it that." Damon knew now what Char was. A vampire like himself, yet the reasons it had gone unnoticed until now was a mystery to Damon. Damon possessed Power, more than most vampires he had the pleasure, or displeasure, of knowing. But Char had successfully hid his nature, which only meant one thing. Char was more powerful, possessed more Power than Damon. That very, single fact made Damon determined to make this man an ally. They had become friends, and remained friends for almost a hundred years. 

Damon and Char stepped into the murky streets of England and began their journey to the apartment Char was currently residing in. "I missed your company," Damon began, breaking the silence that had held them on the doorstep of the brothel. "I wanted to catch up on the times. We have been apart for... almost five years." He brushed damp hair from his forehead, the English air always was damp. "I've been in Scotland most of the time. It is a dangerous place these days. Jacobites everywhere. How is your Bonnie Prince?" 

Char snorted, "Politics were never my interest." His own auburn hair was matted to his head, his eyes, the color of the Mediterranean waters, narrowed to blue-green slits, "I heard of a Salvatore roaming around the north. Germany. That wasn't you though, was it?" He took another drag from his cigarette. 

Damon shook his head, looking up at the overcast night sky. Night black eyes scanned the clouds before sending out a probe. Nothing flickered in his mind, Stefan was not in England. "Little brother...." he cooed, and clucked his tongue. He stopped in the middle of the cobblestone road, looking down the darkened path that lay before them. "Char, I have a favor to ask. One that you will like." His lips curved into a smile. "One that you will like a lot." 

****


	13. Chapter 13

**_James Lowder and Voronica Whitney-Houston authors of Spectre of the Black Rose: Thanks for the inspiration for the background on this part!_**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 14  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

****

Scotland - 1744 

Several days later found Shannon in the weaving room of the Drake estate. She sat with her back to the door, working on, what soon would be, a quilt. A basket full of clothes to be mended sat at her feet. She didn't mind sewing, it was almost relaxing. The only annoyance was the constant chatter of Gretchen and Heidi, a more distant cousin that Gretchen who was visiting for the month. They talked on and on about everything under the sun, it seemed. Shannon was lost in her own thoughts. Thoughts about none other than Damon Salvatore. Typical. 

She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice the small scratch of boot behind her back. It was only the sharp clatter of Gretchen's knitting sticks as they hit the stone floor and the sudden tug of the quilt to Gretchen's side of the table that made Shannon look up. "Goodness, Gretchen be careful!" she scolded the younger girl. 

"Yes, Gretchen, you would not want to ruin the quilt Lady Shannon seems so intent upon," the sarcasm in the voice was thick, and no smiles were bestowed to Shannon as she turned, heart thumping wildly in her chest, to the man behind her. Her face remained neutral as she regarded him. A week away had not changed him one bit. 

"Damon, it is so nice to see you back. We were worried when you left so suddenly and without any notice." She stood and brushed past him, the sharp toe of her boot coming up to kick him in the shin sharply. Her only satisfaction was the barely noticeable grunt of pain that escaped his lips. She continued walking down the corridor, not sure where she was going, but knowing that she was not ready to face Damon Salvatore. 

Before she reached the stairs to her chambers a hand grabbed her harshly around the upper and arm and turned her around. She faced Damon, her back pressed against the stone wall, the coldness seeping through the heavy material of her dress. He looked very upset.... upset about the kick? "Damon... I...." she was cut off by his angry lips against hers. The kiss was nothing gentle. His tongue plunged into her mouth, caressing as it assaulted. His hand on her arm tightened so she almost cried out in pain. She raised a hand to his neck, slender fingers finding the hollow of his throat and stabbing at it, pushing her finger against it till he choked and drew back. 

The breath she drew to her lungs was refreshing and much needed. She gasped in air and looked him over carefully. His coal black hair was tossled from the assault, his complexion pale and his lips as swollen as hers. He looked annoyed and bothered, impatient and hassled. He looked amazing. But she would not let him get away so easy, she was not one to forgive so easily. "You left without a word to me, or anyone else for that matter, and you expect to walk back through our doors and be greeted pleasantly? I think not. If you think, for one moment, that I am going to welcome you with open arms. Ha!" She laughed, and it soon bubbled down to light chuckles. He was just standing there. Just standing there like he had not a care in the world. He lounged against the opposite wall, waiting for her bravado to pass. It passed soon after. She sighed. 

"Now then, " he began, "I was in England, I left soon after you left me by the creek. I flew. Crow form. Tell me you don't believe that." He waited. 

After a moment of pure confusion, Shannon uttered gamely, "I do not believe such tales." 

He stepped away from the wall, she thought he would leave again, but he only took two steps up, so that he was framed by the open window at the top of the stairs. He smirks and cooed down to her, "Just watch, Shannon." 

She couldn't describe what happened. It appeared that his form wavered, blurred and faded. HIs entire form just blurred into one black mass and then there was the loud, horrible sound of wings flapping wildly. Huge wings beat their way against the narrow corridor and when Shannon moved the protective arm away from her face to peek out, she say a huge black crow sitting on the ledge of the window at the top of the stairs. The feathers caught any light coming from the outside and reflected it back in a maze of rainbow colors. The head was cocked to the right, marking it with an odd sort of intelligence. It waited, she approached slowly, not touching but whispering ever so softly, "Damon....?" She felt ridiculous, but the crow belted a sharp "caw!" and twitched it's wing. A confirmation. Shannon's head swam, she raised a pale hand to her even paler forehead and took a step back, her foot teetering on the edge of the top stair. 

The crow lept up, flapping it's wings for bouyance. The form blurred, as Damon's had earlier, it was almost a black mist now, and before Shannon could have another thought, Damon was standing in front of her again, a long, black feather twirling between his thumb and forefinger. "Still need conviction?" 

His final transformation was too much. Shannon threw a hand back to brace a hand against the wall, already feeling her feet coming out from under her. She couldn't think, she didn't comprehend, and she was going to fall. 

Just when she lost her balance completely, Damon's hand snapped out and closed over her wrist, jerking her back to safety against his chest. The rainbow feather forgotten at his feet, he held her too him as her labored breathing slowed and became regular. How long they stood together, Shannon did not know, but eventually she felt his hand in her hair. 

Damon pushed her hair, as dark as his own, from her neck. He could feel the blood running through her veins, he could smell it underneath the surface of her skin, and he could see the flutter of it against the pale flesh of her neck. This moment was what he had worked towards and planned as he flew back from England. Here, on these steps he would make the last of his convictions. He would do it now. 

He started with a light kiss to her forehead. When he was satisfied with her light sigh, he moved down lazily to her temple and cheeks. When she relaxed more in his grip he lowered his lips to her neck. He tipped her chin back slightly with his free hand, holding it softly yet firmly so that she would not jerk away with the first agonizing pierce of flesh. He was about to bite, about to give in and show her that his stories were true, that he was, in fact, a vampire. And that he was not pleased that she had rejected his story so easily and called him, Damon Salvatore, a liar. Scum that he may be, he was no liar. His lips met the flutter under the skin, and they parted, the seductive, arousing feeling of his teeth raced through him. 

"Do it," a soft, barely audible voice said in his ear. He faultered, perhaps for the first time in his life, but the arms that slide around his shoulders and the firm hand that pressed into neck were not to be reckoned with. He pierced her skin and was instantly rewarded with a rush of warm blood flowing into his mouth and down his throat. She tasted rich, thick and sweet. All blood was the same, but mixed with....feeling.... it was always better. 

Before the bite, Shannon's heart was pumping. She had been scared. The first feel of teeth piercing her throat was terrible and she pushed herself against him for support which he instantly, unconsciously gave. After the initial fear and pain, though, was bliss. Elation, happiness.... arousal... whatever it was that they called it, it was a wonderful feeling. 

She didn't take notice when Damon stopped his taking of her life's blood, and carried her to her bed. He lay her on top the covers and pulled a heavy quilt over her. She was awake, but not really. She had only vague impressions of what he was doing when he lowered a slick wrist to her lips. She drank his blood tiredly, noticing nothing of the taste or texture, she only drank until he pulled it away, wiped her lips and smoothed back her hair. She was in a half sleep, but her limbs were to heavy to move. She remained this way for a day and a half. And in that time, she had the oddest dreams.... 

****


	14. Chapter 14

**_Wendy: Thanks for the name "Malachy"_**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 15  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

****

The dream was cliche. She was standing in the middle of a wide open field. The grass was a lush dark green that reached to her knees. The sky was dark, overcast with storm clouds. The clouds were swirling, rolling over the sky in a race against themselves. Flashes of silent lightning illuminated the sky at odd intervals. The wind whipped violently, sending her hair in a black wave behind her. She raised a hand to her eyes, looking out over the landscape. She was surprised to see that her arm was clad in black from wrist to shoulder. Further inspection of her attire showed that she was dressed in a dress as black as her hair. It fell to her ankles, clinging to her curves, emphasizing her hips. The neck line was straight cut just above her breasts. 

A gust of strong wind had her looking up again. What was she doing here? Where was here? 

"A field of course, what does it look like to you?" a muffled voice said behind her. 

When Shannon turned around she saw who the muffled voice belonged to. A man was behind her. He was dressed very strangely. He wore black pants and boots, a black cloak whipped around his shoulders and fell to just below his knees. He wore a wide brimmed black flop hat was atop his head. Shannon took all that in easily. What made her draw short of her inspection of the man was his face. His face was covered by a black mask. A grotesque wide toothed, white grin was sewed into the fabric and the nose of the mask was long and curved. The eye holes were the only opening to the man's true self, and the only color on him. His eyes were a livid, stunning blue. He stood perfectly straight and still, despite the whipping wind that thrashed and assaulted them both. 

Shannon swallowed back her initial fear of the costumed man and replied, "It looks like a field to me too, but it is not a place I have ever been, nor do I remember how I got here." She tilted her head, realizing that despite the environment they were in, she could hear him perfectly and she didn't have to shout over the wind to talk to him. It was perfectly silent in their dreamscape. 

A soft laugh floated to her from the mask, "Dreamscape is accurate." 

"Who are you?" 

"My name is Malachy, and your is Shannon. I am a friend. I brought you here to speak with you about this." He spread his arms, indicating the landscape in which they stood. 

Shannon nodded her head in greeting. "Then if you are such a friend you will not protest to removing your mask, it is horrible." To Shannon's surprise he did remove it and revealed a face of handsome beauty. He removed the flop hat as well and a wash of chestnut colored hair fell forward in the wind. His face was smooth and flawless, his eyes brightened with the presence of his hair in them. He ran a black gloved hand back through the hair, removing it from his face, and smiled at her. His grin was much less frightening than the stitched grin on his mask. He tucked the hat and mask under his arm. "Much better. Now if you will be so kind as to tell me why you brought me here, and how." 

"A dream, I told you. The first of several to come if I have my way. I brought you here to tell you about your very special guest. One that you are very interested in. Do you know who that is, my lady Shannon?" 

"Damon." 

He nodded, his lips molding back into a serious line. "Yes, Damon Salvatore, who has come to your home in search of more than just Scottish hospitality. Do you know what I am talking about?" 

Shannon shook her head and shivered as a blade of wind cut through her thin dress. 

"He came, once, to talk to the Lord Drake of a business venture. He wished to use his riches to help fund the oncoming battle. A Rising, which will fall upon your lands within the next year. Damon Salvatore wishes to see Charles Edward Stuart over come the English throne of George II. His reasons for that .... Charles Edward Stuart is a friend of his. The Bonnie Prince is not a stranger to Italian soil." 

Shannon shook her head, "But that is great! Damon has money and if he can help fund my father's alliance to the Charles then... what is the wrong in that?" 

Malachy smirked, "I said /once/ he came to fund Lord Drake's alliance. He does not hold the same convictions anymore." He paused, and the rolling clouds continued to roll quickly through the sky, and flashes of lightning illuminated the landscape for a moment. It was getting darker. "Now, he wishes to make you understand. You see, I believe Damon Salvatore has come to feel for you. He admires your strength, and is in love with your blood." When Shannon's hand went unconsciously to the side of her throat, the side Damon had used, Malachy nodded. "The first step has been overcome, you are a believer. Rightfully so, a liar Damon Salvatore is not. He is everything that he says he is." 

"I believe now, that he is a vampire, like he says, even though the notion is beyond anything I could of ever possibly imagined. I still don't understand why you brought me here." 

"Do you desire to become like him, my lady Shannon Drake? A creature of the forever night, hunting, living on the blood of your unwilling donors? I know the future, I've lived the past and I have come to clarify both to you, if you wish to hear." 

"I...." her mouth shut on her words. Know the future, he said. He could tell her what her future held for her, he could tell her what the oncoming Rising would bring, and how it would affect her people. Malachy was also asking if she desired to become a vampire, like Damon. The thought never had occured to her. Did she want to become a creature of the forever night? Her mind pushed the problem aside and dealt with the problem in closer danger of happening. Knowing the future might give her a knowledge on how to save her family and her people from the violence. But knowing the future.... 

"Comes with a responsibility," Malachy finished for her. He shifted his weight from one thick boot to the other, his face remained forever neutral. "You may deal with the future of your people now, the future of your life can be discussed later." He looked down at the flowing grass, then slanted a look up at her through his thick lashes. He looked purely evil when he did that. "Make a decision, my time with you runs short." 

"Tell me," she blurted her heart's wish. "Tell me everything, and leave nothing back, especially if it involves my people." She clutched her hands together in front of her, and wished with all her being that her decision was a wise one. 

He tossed his hair from his eyes, his chin slightly inclined, his eyes on the sky above. "The last battle of the '45, as it will be known as, takes place on Culloden field. Charles Edward Stuart and his band of Highlanders will meet the Duke of Cumberland and his band of dragoons. The Highland army will perish, losing this final battle and the Bonnie Prince will flee, back to Italy. A group, under the command of their Lord Drake, will go to Culloden and perish. All of them." He paused for a moment, his gaze returning to Shannon was laced with boredom that he did not feel. His voice was dispassionate, though, as he related the story to her. 

Her lips pursed and nodded, "You imply that my father and brothers will die on the field along with our men. And what of our home, or estate?" 

"The days following the Battle of Culloden will see the countryside in chaos. The English will come into your estate, take whatever they see of value, whether it be inanimate possessions or the women and children. They will burn the rest. Your live stock will be slaughtered, your fields burned. The estate will be left destroyed and the Drake name extinguished with it's heirs." 

"Now you imply that I am to die in this attack." 

He simply nodded. "Dead but not lost, my lovely lady of Drake." 

****


	15. Chapter 15

**_Fun Fact: While writing this part my computer crashed and deleted my work twice!_**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 16  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

****

There was no denying it, the dream had shook Shannon up. She had never had dreams, prophetic ones at that. The messages in the dream had been nothing good, but she was not one just to accept fate. She made her own destiny and she would have a say in this one as well. Nevertheless, she wanted to see her father. 

When she awoke, after sleeping heavily for a whole day and a half, she dressed herself in a dark blue dress and pinned her hair into a tight bun at the back of her neck. She went to her father's chambers to find him writing out bills and papers. She smiled at him. He was an adorable man. He was a few inches taller than Shannon and twice her weight, but his weight was mainly of muscle and he did not let size inhibit his duties to their people. His face was covered in a thick, slightly greying beard and mustache. His deep blue eyes peaked out under fuzzy dark eyebrows, and crinkled when he smiled. His voice a deep song, melodious and rich which always had softness in it for his only daughter. She could not remember a time when his voice had been raised in anger at her. 

He was dressed in their clan's colors. A dark, almost blood red tartan and plaid with only the thinnest strips of emerald green and a lighter red. When she went to his side and bent, to kiss him lightly on the cheek and wrap her arms around his broad shoulders, the fabric of his plaid was the rough scratch that only wool had. His shirt under the plaid was a crisp white that was soft and light. He looked distinct and important dressed so formally. She ran a slim finger over the engravings in the brooch that held the fabric together. 

"Shannon," he set the pen he was writing with down and leaned back against her, "have you been ill? Gretchen said you slept all of yesterday away and a good portion of today. Your brothers and I worry about you." 

She smiled, "And how are my wonderful brothers? They are gone so much, I hardly recognize them when they return." Two of her four brothers, John the eldest and Jacob, the second youngest, had gone to Edinburgh on duties for her father. James the youngest was in France and Darvin, one year younger than John, was riding through the Drake lands, collecting the annual taxes. "Have you heard any news on the situation in England? Has James returned anything on Charles Stuart from France?" 

Her father's gruff reply had her frowning into his shoulder, on which her chin was propped, "Charles is petitioning the King of France, Louis, for money to fund the rebellion. There will be a rebellion now, I am sure. I can smell it in the air." 

Shannon smiled sadly, "If so, would you go to fight? Would the boys? What of our estate and the women and their children? What would become of them, if you and the men left? I do not think a rebellion is something to be so joyous of. Rebellions cause death and hardships for all parties involved. No matter what our cause is and how worthy and right it is, rebellion will only hurt us in the end." The answers to these questions were more important than Lord Drake could ever realize. If he answered them the way Shannon feared, it would affirm her dream, and her family would die. She would die. Would she die defending her home? she wondered vaguely. 

"I will ride with my people, and your brothers will follow of course. You would be the Drake heir if anything were to happen to us, which it may. You are strong, my only daughter. You have your mother's will, you will survive our clan, and protect our remaining people. When we win the rebellion against the bloody English, our lands will reign free. We will be free." 

"At what price?!" Shannon declared desperately. "Father, I beg you withdraw from this foolishness..." 

Her father only shook his head, "Daughter you have a sweet heart and a kind soul. I know you do not approve of this rebellion, but... to return the Stuarts to the throne would be...." He shook his head, "The rebellion is the only way, and if I can help out this worthy cause I will in anyway I can. I only ask for your support if not your understanding." 

"Very well Father, " she sighed wearily. "You have my support, I will do whatever you ask to help preserve this family and Scotland." 

*******

Damon stood in the central courtyard of the main Drake estate with his hands on his narrow hips. He was wearing a pair of breaches a dark brown rust color. His shirt was white and open halfway. He was pissed. His stubborn excuse for a mare had thrown him from her saddle .... again. 

A shuffle from behind had him turning smoothly, picking up the scent of his Lady Shannon before he even saw her. He had not seen her in the past days, his bite proving most potent. "Shannon," he bowed almost mockingly. "This horse is on my last nerve." He smiled and drew her into his arms, kissing her lightly on the mouth and was rewarded when she tightened her hold on him. She burrowed her face in his neck, sigh in the scent of horse, hay and male. Damon only become concerned when she just stayed that way, holding onto him tight enough that, if he were mortal, would bruise his ribs surely. 

"What is troubling you?" he murmured into her ear, rubbing her back gently to sooth. 

She shook her head slightly, not ready to answer him. They stood like that, their forms throwing long shadows over the deep brown dirt in the Drake courtyard as the sun moved across the sky, gradually getting ready to set for the night. The sun warmed them, but Shannon still felt very cold. Her stomach was full of ice and her hands were clammy and damp. She was about to alter Fate, change her destiny. She was going to save the lives of her family, and this was the only way. She was not sure the technicalities of the procedure, but damn it all to Hell, this was the only way. When Damon shifted his weight from boot to boot, she withdrew herself and with her chin high and proud she said, "I want you to make me a vampire." 

****


	16. Chapter 16

**_Listening to: Crossbreed "Stem" (on continuous repeat)_**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 17  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

****

Damon almost laughed at her. He had never had anyone say it quite like that, or look like that when they said it. He shook his head instead and simply said, "No." The look that over took her face could be said to be desperation, but it was soon overcome with anger. Anger made her eyes darken to emeralds and her skin to grow even paler. 

"I'm not good enough to be a vampire, but good enough to be a facet for your twisted taste. You are a truly sick individual, I can't believe you." She shook her head and stared him down until he broke the silence. 

"What made you decided to want to become a vampire all of a sudden? I hardly think you have done much more than sleep for the past two days. The choice is not something to be decided on one bite. Even my bite is not that good." He smirked, and looked smug though he was actually quite curious why such a level headed girl, as Shannon definitely was, made such a rash decision. 

"I had a dream." She said it flatly, matter-of-factly. 

"Oh do go on, it must of been quite a dream." 

Instead of looking annoyed or indignant she looked sad and tired. "You will think me crazy, but very well." She told him the dream she had had, relating it to him the best she could, though the exact details had become more and more vague and blurry as her day had gone on. She told him of Malachy and his mask, and the prophecy Malachy had made to her. Then she told him of the meeting with her father and all that had been said in the conversation. When she finished she stood before him looking more defeated, "And that is why I need to be a vampire. As an immortal I will have a better chance of surviving this family, and perhaps I can even save some of my people. Malachy said I would die in the fight... or the aftermath... if I am like you that will be harder than it would be if I am mortal." 

Damon nodded, "Nevertheless, I still will not make you a vampire. You would have to die in the first place, remember my story? I was killed by my brother's sword and I awoke. There is never any guarantee that you will awake, the mixture and exchange of blood has to be precise." A shadow fell over his face but he shook it off, "It is always a great risk." 

"I'm willing to take it. I am willing to do anything, as long as I have an advantage over the situation, anything is worth it." 

"And what after it? What happens to you after this rebellion? Say you live, which I doubt," he sneered. 

"Well I..." 

He cut her off, sneering and saying with heat, "You what? You will live in this world as I do? A vampire feeding, drinking the blood of your former mortal friends? Who will teach you of the world? Or survival? I bet you do not even know how to wield a sword, much less fight in any physical combat. You would most likely fall prey to any vampire stronger, or older than you. You may survive this _human_ rebellion, but you will never survive the vampire world unless..." He trailed off as if catching his words before they tumbled out his lips with the rest of his scalding words. He pursed his lips as to keep those final words inside. 

Her words were strained, her skin pulsing with the angry emotion of his words, "Unless what?" 

"Unless I am with you." He said it so carelessly, almost lazy. He sighed and looked to the side where the sun's crest was just visible on the horizon. It's fading light threw shadows or gold and black on his profile, making his already severe features look even sharper. He was so beautiful, Shannon noted in the back of her mind. His hair was tousled and rough from the light breeze that had continued to pour through the open courtyard, and his skin was flawless and smooth. She wanted to rub her fingers along the curve of his jaw and feel those coal black, luscious lashes on her cheeks. The light made his eyes have a film of redness over their midnight black depths, she had seen those eyes even darker with emotion when he had spoke of his lost love, and when he had looked upon her the night he had taken her blood. 

Now she wanted to cry, her heart swelled with emotion. He had seemed so cold, so remote. He acted like nothing affected him, he acted invincible, but he wasn't. Oh, he was not the stone cold man he wanted people to believe. His facade was strong, he played his chosen role well, but Shannon was glimpsing past that image he blazed forward. She opened her mouth to speak but shook her head instead, realizing words were not needed. She had known him for almost six months now, and she was sure of her next words, but she spoke them with her head bowed, her eyes on the rusty dirt at their feet, his boots peeking into the corner of her vision. Her hands lightly curled into fists at her sides, said the words she thought she had felt when she first placed eyes on him at her father's table six months ago, but only now beginning to realize what the words truly meant. "I love you." Her voice was almost a pathetic wheeze, it betrayed her, showing the fear she held deep in her stomach. 

There was a sharp sucking in of breath through teeth moments after the words fell from her lips. She thought for sure that it was the sound of rejection, that the next sound from his mouth would be the soft laugh she had come to love, or gentle words of rejection. Instead, there was no further sounds, but the warm press of lips to the side of her neck and a finger on her chin urging her eyes from their intent study of the ground to the liquid blackness of his. His made her feel dizzy, like she was falling into the abyss. They filled her vision, her world. Her own eyes were wide emerald orbs in Damon's vision, her rose petal lips parted just slightly to draw in a strangled breath. His eyelids dropped and she was released from whatever spell she had been under, she was further revived when his lips fell on hers in passionate, desperate surrender. 

She clung to him in equal desperation, returning his heated kisses with the same heat. She kissed him in the middle of the courtyard, not caring who saw or what they said behind their hands. When you loved someone, she thought, it did not matter what others thought. She only wrapped her arms around his neck when Damon picked her up in his arms. 

He kissed her as they descended the steps to his chambers, and kissed her as he placed her down on his bed. He only pulled back when her hands moved to his waist and pulled the soiled shirt from his breaches. When he let her pull it over his head she took in his nearly perfect chest with delight. She looked up at him, he was position above her, stradling her legs. Hesitantly she pulled the laces of his breeches free, her eyes on his face, watching as his eyes bore into hers and his lips parted at her intimate touches. 

His hands scooped up the length of her dress and his hands, teasing her bare thighs as they skimmed up her bare legs, unlatched the heavy petticoats of her skirt. He fought against their bulk and removed them from her outer skirt with a little more than the barest troubles. 

She laughed at his struggles and smiled at him when his face was finally clear of assaulting fabric. Her eyes sparked with delight and Damon thought she looked most sinful, but not any less beautiful. So beautiful he could not help but kiss her and be delighted when she kissed him back with no inhibitions, letting her tongue dance with his and her teeth nips his lips. He took advantage of her good spirits and undressed her until she lay naked and perfect before him. 

Her skin was creamy and flawless, her breasts were firm and warm in the palms of his hands, and when he rolled two puckered, cherry red nipples in his fingers she arched from his bed and let a sound spill from her lips that made him smile at his ease of pleasing her. He caressed her stomach for a moment before bringing her hands to his hips. He let them rest there and waited until she moved nervous hands over his skin and removed the loosened breaches from his hips exposing him to her. 

The moments before he filled her she became increasingly nervous, but as she felt him ease into her all thought was overcome by _feeling_. The slightest pierce of pain and then pleasure, rolling through her from head to toe. She had never experienced anything like this before, and he moved inside her it only increased. She let her hands rest on his back and felt every ripple of muscle as he arched and pushed through her. 

The feeling in her was building and her forehead was slightly damp as was the rest of her body. When Damon's teeth grazed her neck it only heightened the feelings, and when he bit into her flesh her back arched from the bed and she whimpered out his name. Never had she felt so vulnerable and helpless and completely overcome by emotion and feeling. When she began to lower back to the bed she was brought to orgasm again he released his seed. The world disappeared and was replaced with one gilded in gold and it sparked like a diamond. This time when she lowered to the bed she was overcome by a complete lethargic feeling. Damon was feeding from her again, she could not remember when he started, but it seemed unimportant. 

She was slipping into the fuzzy darkness that was opening to swallow her. Before she lost her mind completely she wondered if she would see Malachy this time.... 

****


	17. Chapter 17

**_To "T". Just because._**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 18  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

****

They were still in a field. 

Malachy had replaced his mask, but he still wore the same black uniform he had worn in their previous meeting. Shannon, too, was clad in her black dress. The only other thing different about this meeting was the large fire crackling in the middle of five thick logs set in a pentagon shape. When Shannon looked to the sky she was not surprised to see the same greyish-purple clouds rolling over and over each other, chasing their tails quickly to the horizon in the east. Yet the wind that so violently pushed the clouds on, did not effect their clothes or the fire. Malachy stood like a statue, straight and tall just beside the fire. He extended a hand to help her over a log to enter the pentagon. 

His hand was strong and firm in hers. The black glove that covered his skin was soft like suede. When she had crossed into the pentagon safely he let her hand go, his touch not lingering more than it had too. When he spoke his voice was muffled from the fabric in his mask. "You did it again. What was your reason this time, lovely lady? True love?" His voice held only the barest taste of sarcasm, but it was enough to raise Shannon's defenses. "No, of course not." He continued, "It was sense of duty. You want to change the future. That is what you want." His head tilted, the black slouch hat dipping lower only one aquamarine eye was visible in the deep eye holes of his mask. "Shannon, the future knows you will take such measures. It knows everything. Anything you could possibly think of to perhaps change the outcome of your future is already anticipated." 

Though it wasn't cold, Shannon drew closer to the fire. "Malachy, I told Damon about you." 

"I know." 

"And about the rebellion, " she raised a hand to stop his further comments, "I know you know. Just.... listen. You were right, I chose to be bitten again out of a sense of duty. I have a better chance of survival if I am a vampire. I gathered the details on how the process works. I know that I must die before the results of my choice are seen. I understand and am prepared to go through with the process completely. But what I need to know, what I have to know is what are you. Who are you, and what is the purpose of these meetings?" 

Taking his mask by the tip of the nose, Malachy removed it, tucking it under his arm. "I suppose you have a right to know. Human nature is to be curious of what one does not understand. I am Malachy of a hundred ages. I told you before I have lived the past and seen the future. Am I mortal? No, but neither am I immortal. I have not descended from above to guide you, not have I ascended from below to harm you. I offer truth and understanding. Do you understand that so far?" 

"You are neither angel nor devil. I understand that much, go on." 

"As I instructed Charlemange, so I will instruct you. I am, whatever you say I am. What am I, Lady Shannon?" 

"I...." shaking her head she faltered. Lost for what he may be, she had no idea. "Nothing living. Not a ghost, not a vampire. Not a god." She looked up into his eyes, which studied her patiently as she worked through her mind what he may be. "You may be killed, but not in a simple way...." she trailed off slowly. 

"How do you come to that conclusion?" He smiled, or it was more of a smirk. He looked proud. Proud of her? 

"You said you were neither mortal or immortal. I...." she trailed off again. "I don't know Malachy. I just cannot make it clear to what you are or may be." "I am a spider in your dream web. Always with you, never without you. There from birth, there in death. But, you seem pretty bent on becoming immortal. We will have a long life together Shannon. How does that sit with you?" 

She shrugged, "Fine, I suppose. You have been nothing but helpful in a completely morbid sense, but I suppose... I mean... that does not tell me what your purpose with me is." 

"To make it simple for your simple human mind, consider me a guardian. We have been called such, in fact we even have our own little world somewhere in the near distance. Does that help you? Very well, what is my purpose. To advise, to guide and most importantly to protect. You make my job hard with that stunt you pulled with Damon Salvatore, but it is of little care now. When you do become immortal, things will change with us. As the years progress and you live on alone, I think...." He was interrupted by Shannon's sharp outburst. 

"Alone! How will I be alone?! Damon said he would stay with me, even after my first death. You tell me right now how I end up to be alone!" 

"Damon Salvatore will leave you of course. It is most certain, don't worry..." 

"How. Tell me how and why." She could feel the blood rushing into her cheeks, making them flush with her anger. Deep down in the pit of her stomach emotion was swirling. The idea of being alone in the world for an uncountable number of years had her scared to death. She was especially scared about the way Damon would leave her, and why. There must be a good reason, any reason beside a good one would be .... well wouldn't be good enough. 

"You do realize that if I tell you things could happen. Those things are undetermined even to me. Telling you the future may ruin the future." His voice was very serious, his eyes held none of the sparkle of humor. Whatever else he had told her or whatever else he will tell her was nothing compared to how serious this was. 

Shannon closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, "Don't tell me. Don't. I wish not to know anymore of my future. Except...." her lips curled in a smile and when she opened her eyes she saw that Malachy was smiling at her too. The humor as back in his eyes and it made them sparkle and he nodded slightly. "You know what I am going to say?" 

"I do, " he nodded. "You want know where you will be in about 200 or so years. New York City." 

"New York.... the New World. Tell me about it?" 

"Maybe next time." He spread a hand and the wind entered the scene, screaming and whirling around them, sending Shannon's hair blew in her face and she felt dizzy as she tried to clear her face of it's black mass. 

"Malachy...." she had to scream over the new noise. The fire shot up into the sky, sending sparks up to kiss the air. "Malachy!" She was scared, and then she fainted. 

************

She awoke in a strange place and jerks almost violently remembering Malachy. Then she remembered where she was and as her wits slowly gathered she turned lazily to the other occupant of the bed. 

Damon, looking relaxed and marvelous in nothing more than his skin. His eyes were closed, but Shannon had the feeling that he was not in any state of deep sleep. He looked more like he was dozing, taking a few minutes to rest his tired limbs. Shannon did not care, she wanted to touch him. The light coming in through his single window provided enough so that she could see him clearly. 

Lightly she pushed the tousled and lengthy bangs from his forehead. She traced a finger over one of his perfectly arched and darkly colored eyebrow. Then she let her finger skim over his closed eyelids that had long dark lashes falling on his pale, flawless cheeks. When her fingers brushed over his cheeks she found them slightly warm and cool, an odd feeling but not an unpleasant one. When her fingers reached his lips, she let her hand drop away, replacing the touch of her hand with the touch of her lips. 

His were full and soft to the touch, and they parted slightly to greet her. He had not been asleep after all, Shannon thought, as she kissed him softly. When she pulled back and opened her eyes she saw that his were already open. Instead of meeting his eyes, she looked down at his chest and let her fingers run a course over his ribs and along the ripples in his stomach. Her hair fell over him slightly as she shifted, and she smiled to herself as his hand closed around her chin and turned her to look at him. She raised her own dark brow in question. 

"One more time...." Damon began and had to stop to clear his throat. His voice was rough and unused. His head slightly foggy, a new sensation for him, one he wasn't sure he wished to understand. "One more time," he said again, "and then you will have enough of me in you to change. Will you be ready?" 

Shannon nodded in his grip, "I would hope so. I had another dream. I have some things to think of before I share it with you. I have decisions to make, hard decisions. Can you wait for me?" 

"Forever and a day Shannon," he said, not hiding or caring to hide the weariness that was only to evident in his voice. He had his own decisions to make, "Forever and a day." 

****


	18. Chapter 18

**_To everyone who reads and gives me feedback. Do you know how cool that is?_**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 19  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

****

Char was lost. Well, not technically. He knew where he was. He was in Germany. Where in Germany he was not sure, but that did not really matter if he thought about it. He raised the thin cigarette to his lips and sucked in rich smoke deeply. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the door to the small house that was a few yards in front of him. The upstairs window was lit with the warm glow of an evening fire. Char wished he was in there. It was fucking freezing out here! The German winters were not nice, even to vampires. So he did not curse himself when he shivered inside his fur lined coat yet again. The only warmth was the burning in his chest as he sucked in another lung full of sweet smoke. 

The tree he was perched in was bare of leaves, but the branches were thicker than the trunks of many of the other trees scattering the German countryside. They hid him well from anyone in the house who may look out the window. The house belonged to a man and woman who lived just outside the village of Broch. They had a farm a few miles down the path. The house was rented out to Stefan Salvatore who was traveling with another man who looked old, smelled sick and reeked of the grave. Char wondered what Stefan was doing hanging around such a joke of a human. 

Damon had been right when he told Char that he would enjoy this job. Char loved tracking people, stalking people, watching people. It was a game, an even funner game when the person was actually a vampire. Vampires were suppose to have keener senses than normal mortals, but Stefan was weak. It made Char's lip curl in disgust. Stefan was a waste of good flesh and even better blood. That thought made Char think about the time Damon had took him to Italy and they had "ran into" Stefan. Actually Damon had sought Stefan out, Char wasn't sure why. He had never met Stefan Salvatore, but he already didn't like him. Weak vampires, like the sick man in the home, were jokes. 

Damon had saved his brother's life, throwing Char off the younger man's throat and into a table. Damon had done it with casual ease, and then, turning to his brother who was wiping spilt blood from his pale neck, Damon had told Stefan if he ever saw him again, he would kill him. They had left and.... 

The slamming of a door brought Char out of his thoughts. Someone was leaving the house. Stefan. Silently Char dropped from the tree's branches, landing in the soft snow and moving forward all in fluid movement. He was almost behind Stefan when the younger Salvatore turned around and threw his hands up to protect his face and neck. Char could almost laugh, but he held back his laughter and stopped short. 

"All right Stefan, I will not kill you tonight, put your arms down little man." His cultured English voice gave away the laughter he was trying so hard to keep under control. "Now look," he said when Stefan refused to lower his arms, "I am not here to hurt you dammit. Put your arms down before I do it myself, you hear me?" 

Stefan lowered his arms, "Then what do you want Char? Is Damon around? I was not aware you were in Germany." His eyes narrowed as he sent out his own probe for Damon. "What do you want." 

"I am here on Damon's behalf, as you already know he is not around. He is somewhere that way." He waved his hands to the west. "I came to warn you. Are I not nice? Well I am feeling nice, I am fucking freezing, but I still feel nice. Any way, I came on your brother's behalf to try and convince you to return back down to Italy. Your presence is too close. It is simple, and what the hell are you doing with that retched bag of bones in there?" Char jerked a thumb back to the house. "I can smell his decaying stench all the way out here for Christ's sake." 

"He's sick." 

"No shit." 

Stefan huffed out a breath, "Look Char, tell my brother I am not leaving Germany anytime soon. I am happy here. It has nothing to do with him, and I refuse to be pushed out again. He did this a few years ago when I went into Spain. If he wants to forget me so badly, and if he hates me so much, he should just steer clear of me, and leave me alone." He turned back to the path and started walking quickly, eager to get out of the presence of Char who never failed to give him the creeps and shivers. 

"Would you like me to quote you? I would love to be part of the reason your brother rips out your throat. Little Stefan Salvatore trying to be tough. Endearing, but should I quote you?" 

When Stefan turned around again to call back to Char the road was empty, but Char was still around, Stefan could sense him. He whirled quickly only to see the road was empty behind him too. "Char, stop with these mind games. Stop showing off your Power, I am unimpressed." 

"So turn around and look at me when I talk to you." 

The voice was right behind him, and before Stefan could turn around to face Char, he was on his stomach in the snow, his face being pushed into the icy coldness, and his arms being pulled back to be clasped at his sides. 

"The younger generations are so stubborn. Always think that they are right, never show their elders the respect they rightfully deserve.... HEY!" Char moved from simply kneeling on Stefan's back to actually sitting on it. Stefan was trying to buck his legs and turn around. "Stop squirming, you are just like a little worm. If you do not lay still and listen to me I will be forced..... FORCED!.... to do something unpleasantly drastic" To show he was serious he lifted one of Stefan's pinned arms and pryed the wool glove from his hand, exposing his fingers to the freezing wind and air. "Now listen once again. Nod if your answer is a yes, remain still if the answer is a no. Shall I quote you on your earlier bravado? Do you want me to tell your big bad brother Damon that you itty bitty Stefan want him to stay away from you? That you, in fact, demand it? Answer now?" 

Stefan's head jerked, a nod. 

Char smiled because he was enjoying this, "All right big boy. Up you go." Char hauled Stefan to his feet and let him go completely, offering his glove back to him. "Your death wish has been granted." 

"It's not a death wish," Stefan muttered as he brushed the snow from his clothes and slide his blue hand back into the glove. "Damon won't come after me anytime soon. He has better things to do than harass me. Why do you think he sent you to threaten me? He could of done it himself if he wasn't occupied with something else." 

It was all Char could do not to snarl in Stefan's arrogant little face. "Hey Salvatore, you're pretty smart you know? Yeah you are. You're smart enough to know that the only thing keeping me from ripping out your fucking throat myself is your brother. But Damon won't care for much longer, and when he gives up all this shit, I'll still be here." He smirked, but his eyes narrowed when Stefan failed to react to his own threats. Then he shrugged good-naturedly and smiled, "Well, I am very cold right now, and if you want to stay in this iceberg, hey that's up to you." He turned to go, and heard the soft crunch as Stefan turned to leave in the opposite direction. 

Char reached back and grabbed the collar of Stefan's thick coat. He turned and jerked back violently, this time sending Stefan crashing to the snow on his back. Quick as a wolf Char was on him, grabbing a handful of Stefan's dark hair and slamming it into the ground, grinding it into the snow. Char hand tore at coat, sweaters and shirts till Stefan's bare chest was exposed to the air. And there, laying against the pale perfection of Stefan's chest was a small gold ring with a blue jewel like Damon had described to him so very carefully. 

Stefan's response was instant despite being stunned by Char's blow, and the air being pushed from his lungs by the freezing exposure of icy wind to his bare flesh. His hand came up in a fist and punched Char in the jaw. The other man cried out in pain, outraged by Stefan's speedy recovery. Stefan's assault had Char clasping a hand to Stefan's throat and squeezing, cutting off the air to his lungs. 

Stefan struggled though he knew it was useless, Char was a much stronger man and vampire than Stefan. Before he blacked out though, he felt the sharp sting of his necklace with Katherine's ring being pulled from his neck, and then, for the first time in many many years, he felt the absence of it from his body. Char had taken Katherine's ring. Stefan pulled and struggled to rise from the ground and his foggy brain, but Char had thrown a veil over Stefan's mind. He would not recover anytime soon. "Char...Katherine... DAMON!" He knew why Char was here, he had come to claim Stefan's last momento of Katherine, the woman he loved. 

"Pleasant dreams little guy," Char cooed into Stefan's ear and let his head fall back into the snow. He tucked the ring into his pocket and shivered muttering, "It's fucking cold here" as he walked down the path and back into Broch to catch the fastest way to Scotland. 

****


	19. Chapter 19

**_"_**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 20  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

****

Scotland 1744 

Several months had passed since anything important happened to the Drake estate. Winter was upon them, though, and the nights stretched into bitter coldness and the snows blanketed the glen with a thick whiteness. It was the eve of the New Year that Shannon met Damon's old world friend Charles Dalmantia. He was a charming man under dressed for the court though in black lounge pants that were far to loose for him, a black shirt that all but clung to him like a second skin and a down coat, crisp despite his long journey to Scotland. He looked relaxed and at home, not at all put off by everyone else's formal dress. It was the new year and the Drake family spared no expense to see it's guests well fed, well drank and well entertained. 

Two pipers pumped lung fulls of air into their bagpipes until their faces red with blood and their brows speckled in sweat, but oh how they grinned at each other between sets. They truly enjoyed playing their countries pipes, and the crowd, oh the crowd! how they cheered the to on, and cheered even louder when the fiddler joined the small band. The evening was going well with her clan dressed in their kilts and plaids and the foreigners... well there was only Damon and his friend Char who were the Outlanders in this crowd. Char had been even been referred to as a sassanach, a curse reserved for the English. But Char had not let some of her kin ruin his time, no he drank heavily from his goblet and flirted with Gretchen, who had all but forgotten Damon in Char's charming presence. 

Shannon had dressed herself in one of her favorite dresses, a dark green dress that brought out her eyes. It was tight at the waist and flowed behind her an extra yard of fabric. The sleeves came to tiny points at the back of her hand, and a little loop of thread that slipped over her middle finger made the points extend down the middle of her hand. Her long black hair was done simply, just two wings at the side swept back from her face the rest was left to cascade it waves down her back to her hips. Damon looked just as extravagant, he lounged in his chair next to her at one of the long dining tables. His shoes were expensive Italian leather with points at the toes. His pants were tight to his skin and a black shirt billowed from his waist, the top two buttons undone to flash glimpses of alabaster skin when he moved just the right way. His hair was like it always was, a dark cloud of tousled mess atop his head. He never looked better, Shannon thought. 

*****

Char had introduced himself upon his arrival. He had caught Damon and Shannon walking back from their daily walk just before sunset. The wind had been calm and sweet but with a wicked bite that foreshadowed that the rest of winter would not be pleasant. Their breath had made little clouds in front of them, and Shannon couldn't of been happier. Her arms were interwoven with Damon's as they walked. His usually cool body provided just enough warmth to keep her from shivering uncontrollably. Char had been walking with his head down, hands stuffed in the pockets of one of his coats. Damon had stopped abruptly and stared down at the other man who had raised his head a moment later. "Char," he had said in that Italian accented voice, "it has been quite a long time since I saw you last in England. I had expected you here many months ago. Everything is... all right in Germany I assume." 

"Yes everything is just perfect in Germany," he said to Damon, then turning his eyes on Shannon, "I was sent to harass his little brother, Stefan. I do Damon's dirty work, hello milady, I am Charles Dalmantia. Call me Char though, I would be most honored to have you use that name." He offered a charming little smirk, at which Shannon smiled back despite herself. 

"It is very nice to meet you, Mr. Dalmantia, Char." She bowed her head, bending her knees slightly in a modified curtsy and leaned on Damon a little more, letting her head fall to his shoulder and gently rest there. Damon's response pleased her, as he shifted his gloved hands and gave her own a gentle squeeze. 

"Yes, we are all pleased Char has come to grace us with his presence," Damon's voice held sarcasm and Shannon did not have to look up to know he rolled his eyes to match his words. "I do hope you have what I asked you to get from Stefan." He started walking down the hill to Char, and Shannon having no choice, followed. 

Char matched their pace as they trekked slowly back to the castle. "Of course, it was a fun time. He was with this old hag of a man when I left him, no doubt the man is dead now. He reeked. I have what you asked for, though. It is in my bags, I left them with the stable boy. Perhaps we should stop there before we go to the castle? I will require my own room." He peeked around Damon and looked at Shannon who only smiled at him and gave him a nod. 

Damon turned, and they walked to the stable. Toby was in the riding circle a thick stick in his hand, directing the horses around the circle at a slow canter, warming their cold limbs. He must of heard them approach for he turned and smiles, waved to their entourage and climbed the fence with grace and ease. When his feet hit the ground he sprung into a slow trot of his own, eagerly making his way to the group. 

"Shannon, Mr. Salvatore and...." he broke off when he reached Char. 

Char smiled and extended a hand, "Dalmantia, Charles. Call me Char though, never cared for the name Charles. You are?" 

"Toby," Toby said, "Lord Drake's lead stable hand. Is that your horse?" He pointed to a white and brown speckled mare who was running the circle with her fellow horses, "I havena seen that one before and I ken all the horses here well." 

Char nodded, "And my bags in the stable." He walked past them all and into the stable for his bags. 

Toby was left standing with Damon and Shannon. His eyes trailed down to their intertwined arms and then back to Shannon's face. His eyes searched her face briefly, he ran a hand back through his length of auburn hair that was free of it's usual bindings and fell straight to just below his shoulders. "Aye... Shannon...." He walked a little away from them, turned back and motioned for Shannon to follow. 

Shannon detached herself from Damon and gasped out in surprise as he moved to keep her where she was. His hands went under her cloak and pulled her to his chest, nuzzling a cold nose to her neck. She smiled and detached herself once again, letting Damon's hands fall from her and to his sides. She walked to where Toby had stopped, just on the other side of the barn, out of hearing to Damon. Actually Shannon thought Damon may be able to hear them still with his enhanced hearing, but there was no way of Toby knowing that. "What is it Toby?" She smiled up at him, and then she hugged him on pure impulse. He had been so distant lately, she had hardly spoken to him since she had become involved with Damon. 

Toby's arms encircled her like a warm security blanket and his lips fell to her ear, he whispered softly, "I've missed you that is all. You never come to the stables anymore, I feel like I have not talked to you in ages." His arms tightened around her and then he stepped back releasing her back to the unforgiving winter wind. "You got what you wanted," he tilted his head in the direction Damon was standing. "How does it feel now?" 

"I like it. I like him. I love him. Everything is better than I imagined Toby... I..." she bit off her words. She wanted to tell him about ... well everything, but he was hardly the person to share such things with. It was not only Damon she wanted to share with Toby, she wanted to share what Malachy had told her. She had not seen him all these months, he had remained a dormant thing in the back of her mind. Sometimes when she was just falling into sleep, hanging on the limbo of the waking world and the world of dreams she felt a flicker in her mind like a candle's flame caught in a brief wind, holding and then going out. It was Malachy. It never occurred to Shannon she may be crazy, she certainly was not, but the story and it's details may sound crazy to Toby. She dreaded him thinking she was mad. 

He was waiting for her to go on patiently, "You....?" he began. 

"I'm so glad we stopped by!" She flung herself back into his arms, kissed his cheek and backed up, picking up the heavy folds of her cloak, skirts and petticoats she moved away from Toby and back to Damon who had stood ever so patiently on the rise of the last hill before the Drake estate came into view. Char was by his side, a bag slung over his shoulder. "Let's go get Char situated in his room, and then we must eat I am famished. Come along." Instead of grabbing Damon's arm she walked slightly in front of them, and let the two old friends talk among themselves of times past and truth untold. They had a lot to say. 

****

Now they were all feasting at her father's table, waiting till the clock brought in the new year. Shannon refused to let the dread settle in her gut, she reminded herself furiously that this was a time of celebration, not a time to dwell on what the future would hold. 

Shannon's good cheer was brought to a quick halt as the doors to their dining room burst open and her youngest brother James burst into the room blood a thick mask on his face. The music stopped as he stumbled and fell to his knees as a band on English dragoons entered after him all dressed in their bright redcoats, buttons polished to perfection and short swords sheathed tightly at their hips. 

Shannon rose quickly a hand pressed tight to her bosom, the music quickly faded behind her and the light chatter of the party goers dying. A woman screamed. 

"This man," the leader of the dragoons belted out, "is guilty of treason against his country. Under the King's law that is death. Will there be any protestors on his behalf?" To protest against the law was death too, but Shannon could hardly contain herself. Her oldest brother was kneeling on their floor with blood seeping into his clothes, his reddish hair was crimson. He had been beaten, even the soles of his feet bled. She moved as to step forward, but a hand clasped down on her arm, stopping her. 

Damon held her arm tightly in his super natural grip and shook his head almost invisibly. 

The leader of the dragoons threw a rope around James's throat and nodded to the low lying rafters above their dining table. Two of his officers hauled James to his feet, then with utter disregard they mounted the table, stepping on plates of food, knocking over goblets of wine, till they stood with James between them in the middle of the table, visible to everyone in the room. 

Tears ran down Shannon's cheeks, as they did with many in the room. Her father was across the room, his hand turning white as he gripped the hilt of his broad sword in it's sheath. He took a step forward and his voice rang out like the boom of a canon, "What has my eldest done to betray his country?" 

The captain answered, "He betrayed his King, that is enough. Details are not important." 

"It was not his King to betray!" Shannon shouted out, spitting her words at the captain who calmly turned and faced the red faced girl in front of him. 

"Do you wish to take his place?" His eyes drifted over her thin but developed form, lingering on her bosom, skimming over her eyes and then resting on the eyes above her head. Dark eyes in a pale face. Something passed between him and the man holding the girl's arm, something he could not explain, something that terrified him. He turned sharply, his face a little paler than it had been, his heart thumping a little harder in his chest, his voice a little higher than usual when he raised a hand and ordered his officers to proceed. 

James did not fight, his pride would be in not giving anyone the satisfaction of a struggle. He grunted when the thick rope of the noose bit into his neck, the officers adjusted it for no reason but to rub it into his skin, cutting it until thin lines of blood ran down his throat, over his wounded chest. The sobbing came from everywhere, but his blue eyes held his sister's green ones and it was her sobbing that seemed to stand out the most. She had a full, front and center view of what was about to happen. Quickly he caught the dark man's eyes behind her, the man who had stopped her from rushing to him when he entered the room and who still kept her from falling to the floor. Silently he pleaded, he begged than he take her from the room before this happened. To his surprise, the man held his eyes for the longest moment, then he pulled Shannon back from the table, disregarding her frantic clutches and shrieks. 

He was raised till his toes barely touched the edges of the table, he fought not to fall backwards into the air, and was only given a casual push which ended it all. The rope jerked as his weight entered the equation. He did not feel his neck snap, but his last collection of the living world was the sobs of his family and court and the high shrieks of his sister. 


	20. Chapter 20

**_Listening to non-stop: The Gladiator soundtrack_**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 21  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

**** 

Scotland 1745 

Shannon's sobs became muffled huffs as she buried her face into Damon's shoulder again. They were in his room, where he had taken her without question. When the door had been shut behind her she had sunk to the ground, she had thought her tears were dried up. Thought she couldn't cry anymore, but when Damon touched her shoulder she began again in silence. When he gathered her in his arms quietly, she buried her face in his shoulder and her silent tears turned into raging sobs. She cursed, she screamed, she begged to know why. 

Damon let her cry, let her release whatever anger and grief she had inside her. The new year had been rung in with none of the joy that had been planned. It was now January 1745. After a time, her sobs quieted and she fell asleep in his arms. Carefully he placed her in the center of his bed, pulled the brown and tan check quilt over her and looked down at her. He was frowning lightly. He turned and left, leaving her to sleep her grief away, he hoped. Because there was more to come, and not that much time in between. 

****

The moon glittered on the water which was like a mirror reflecting the heavens. It was utterly still, even though Malachy dipped the long wooden oar into the water at small intervals. Dressed in the same outfits they always wore, tonight Shannon did not feel happy to see him. In fact she felt nothing, the tragedy of her brother's death held even in her dreams. She sat in the little wooden row boat with Malachy standing across from her, directing the boat to some unseen shore, an unknown destination. 

No one spoke. Malachy had his mask off, it rested on the floor of the boat. He hat was also amiss, though it was not with it's companion on the floor of the small wooden boat. His copper hair flashed in the moonlight, it was slightly tousled from some unfelt wind. His eyes were dark, as dark as the black water. Pale hands griped the handle of the oar. His wide mouth was set in a bored frown, his eyes never left her. He appeared to be willing and able to stand there all night, but Shannon was not in the mood for his cryptic fortune telling. She wanted answers. 

"Why?" she asked, her voice flat. 

"Everything that is born must die." 

She slapped a hand to the side of the boat and it wobbled. Malachy stood unaffected, and she suspected that if the boat tipped she would be the only one going into the water. "No! You know what I mean Malachy. You said that my family would die in the Rising. The _battle_ of the Rising. Not like this! James... he... just tell me what happened?" 

"Obviously, he had a little run in with the English. But I actually think that the future is altering to accommodate what has happened. I think this is a punishment for you trying to change the future. I had told you that trying to change things would prove most drastic. But you always were a stubborn girl." 

"How would you know." Shannon grumbled. "Look, Malachy, I don't think you understand." 

He raised a brow looking amused. 

"I cannot do this. I cannot watch my family die. I can't watch my country, my lands burn and be taken over by the English, or anyone for that matter. What would happen if .... if I were to leave Scotland. Damon could finish... " she felt queasy, "... could finish changing me and I could die, " she finished quickly. 

The boat came to a gentle stop and Malachy walked across the boards till he stood in front of her. He knelt and looked her in the eye, his were the impossible aqua marine and she could not help but draw short of breath. They were amazing paired with his chestnut hair. "I will make you a deal. It is quite painless. If you go get the final dose of Damon's blood into your lovely little veins, you will be almost guaranteed your immortal life, if... you die in a weeks time, I believe. Otherwise his blood will run thin in yours and the process would have to be repeated. Understand?" 

She gave a stiff nod. 

Malachy frowned lightly, "Of course you do. My deal is this. If you become the vampire you so wish to be for the Lord's reason, _I_ don't know why, I will ensure you safe passage to the new world, I will guarantee that your family will not lose their lands to the English. That means that one of your brother's will not die in the Rising, and quite possibly none of them will die. If....." he trailed off. 

"If what?" Shannon said in an annoyed voice, she was getting prematurely tired of Malachy's word puzzles. 

"If you leave the country without your lovely Damon." 

"Why ever would you want me to do that?!" Sharp panic hit her in the gut. 

"Everything has a price and that is mine, do not question the ways of it." He stood, going back to his side of the boat, grabbing the oar he began rowing again. "Agreed?" 

"I.... oh my god, how can I just leave him? Malachy there has to be another way. He will hate me, he will think I used him and that is so not very true. Please, please, I beg you think of another way, anything, anything at all I promise I'll do it, but not this. Please..." 

"An interesting prospect, but.... No... no this is what I want. Don't worry Shannon, I will be with you always. A constant murmur in your mind when you need me most. Agreed?" 

She thought. Furiously she did not want to agree to this, but.... her family. Her lands, her pride as a Drake stood on the line. She had met Damon months ago, but she had known her family all her life. Her loyalty, she realized with a heavy sense of dread falling over her heart, would always be with her family first. Her voice was oddly flat and heavy with despair as she murmured, "Agreed." 

*********

She woke up the next day, the sun bright in the sky, and the feeling hadn't left. It only became thicker as she went to the window and saw Damon and Char talking below. A brief exchange and Damon looked up, flashed her a smile and turned, disappearing into the castle. Coming her way. 


	21. Chapter 21

**_"Believing the strangest things. Loving the alien. You'll pray till the break of dawn, believing the strangest things..." David Bowie_**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 22  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

**** 

Scotland 1745 

"Well, I just don't want to go tonight, Damon. I have no interest in parties, only a week after my brother's funeral. I have had my say, I am not going. Go if you wish, I am sure Char is going, you will not be lonely. You would not be even if you were alone..." Shannon trailed off and buried her nose in the closet, looking for a gown to put on. A week since her brother's funeral and her last dream with Malachy. She had let Damon take his last drink of her blood, she would have to die tonight. 

The thought made her stomach roll and bile rise in her throat. Dead, she was going to be dead by morning. She had spent the days of last week with her remaining brothers, with her father and with Damon. She was not sure if Damon suspected anything, and if he did he was not letting on. 

She already knew how she would do it. She actually had two days to make up the week that Malachy predicted as the amount of time before Damon's blood in her veins ran to thin and dead would be dead. She wanted to take no chances though, this was not suicide, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. Though it would look like it.... 

An impatient sigh interrupted her thoughts and her hand stilled on the dress at hand. She turned and gave an annoyed grunt right back at the lump in the bed that was Damon Salvatore. 

"If you make me go by myself," he said in his beautiful Italian accent, "people will think that you are not interested in me anymore. I would be open to all the vixen's romantic advances. We would not want that, would we?" He pulled the stiff white sheets across his chest and gave her a pouty look that made her stomach roll again, but this time in something other than sickness. 

She smiled and went to the bedside, going on her knees on the ground beside him and running a hand up through his tossled, dark locks. "And you will enjoy every minute of it. Don't you dare deny it." She smiled up at him and moved to rise, thinking it far time she dress herself, it was almost dusk, and she would have to carry out her plan. 

Damon's hand fastened on hers, preventing her to rise off her knees. Her smile faltered and she looked him in the eye, "What is it?" 

He only looked at her, held her eyes as he pushed cool metal over her finger. He remained silent, but dropped his eyes, releasing her from their hypnotic spell. Once his eyes left hers she was able to look down at her hand. 

Her left hand, was now adorned with a thin gold circlet with a small blue stone. Her stomach rose again, not sickness or love, but panic. Her mind went into over drive, continuously murmuring, _Oh no, oh no, no no no..._

"Marry me." 

Plain, simple, innocent without his usual turn of sarcasm or coldness. "The stone is lapis lazuli, and it is the stone on my ring as well." His left hand came into view, the hand that always held his own heavy silver, engraved ring with slightly larger blue stone. "It protects against the sun. With this ring, I can go anywhere, without it, if the sun touches my skin, I burn. I have seen it happen, not a particularly nice event to witness." His hand twitched, and he drew it back under the covers. "Even if you do not wish to be my wife, keep the ring, you will need it sooner... or later." 

When Shannon looked up to his face his eyes were dark, no light shone in their depths. It was a very eerie look, he had on his face. Perhaps he knew.... Her hand clenched to a fist, _Do not be ridiculous Shannon,_ she told herself firmly, _The man just asked you to marry him. Give him an answer!_

"I will have to think about it, Damon." She offered him a smile, "Thank you for the ring, it is a beautiful piece of work." She ran a finger over the stone lovingly and then bent her neck up to kiss him gently on the lips. 

When she pulled back, slightly breathless, he held her chin and said softly, eye searching her face for some answer, "It is very old. Take care of it." Then he rolled across the bed and his feet hit the floor with a soft thump. He moved into the small privy closet and shut the door. A few second later she heard the splashing of water. 

She rose quickly and grabbed a random dress from the closet. Stepping into it, she hopped over to her shoes and slid into them. She had grabbed a front lace dress and she pulled furiously at them and finally managed to fasten them tight enough so she held no fears of spilling out of the top. She surveyed the room in one quick sweep and then rushed out the door. Down the stairs that led to Damon's room, hitting the dirt of the courtyard a flat run she fled to the stables, becoming winded at the crest of the hill that looked down on the barn and field. 

There he stood. Tall, and strong, his tied hair glimmering like copper and fire. She ran to him, calling his name. 

Toby was dressed in his usual attire of dusty shirt and tan breeches. He turned, when he heard his name, pulling the tuft of straw from his lips and letting it fall from the ground. "Lady Shannon..." he began and was cut off as she hurled herself into his arms, her own going tightly around his neck. 

"Oh Toby," she murmured into his neck, which smelled of hay and oats and man. "Toby." 

Not one to startle easily, the behavior of Shannon had sent him reeling, "Well, now. Shannon did something happen? Your father?" He jerked back at the thought, but was quickly relieved when Shannon shook her mane of tangled black waves. 

"Nothing of the sort," she said to him. She pulled back, taking a few steps, putting a foot between them, "I only came to say 'good-bye.'" 

"Good-bye! An where do you think yer goin?" Toby's brows were in his hair with amusement and astonishment. "Hmm?" 

She only shook her head, "Will you be at my father's gathering tonight?" 

He nodded his head stiffly, "Aye, I am to be quartering the horses of the guests as they arrive." 

"Good. Good, then you will see what I mean. I know, I am acting strange just... trust me Toby. Trust me, and know.... know that whatever happens that you are my best friend, and I love you for that. And that nothing is truly gone as long as it is not forgotten. Do you understand?" 

Now truly startled he only nodded. 


	22. Chapter 22

**__**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 23  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

**** 

She wished she knew how it happened, but all she knew was what Damon had told her in his story of the way he died. She knew her dead body would join her family. In the ground, she thought with a sick feeling. How will I ever get past the dirt? And how will I get the coffin open? She couldn't, that was a fact. So she would have to enlist help. She also knew, from Damon's story, that she would be terribly hungry when she awoke. That she would need blood. Human blood, warm and thick.... she closed her eyes and leaned back against the doorway to Char's rooms. It was not the first time she began to wonder if she was making the right choice. 

She raised a fist to knock on the door, but it opened before her fist could connect. She took and involuntary step backward. "Char," she said to a surprised Charles Dalmantia. She stepped back further when he took a step into the hallway and looked around. 

"Where is Damon?" he said in his crisp English accent. 

"He is down in the dining hall with my father. Discussing politics, more than likely. I came to speak with you though. Alone. This is nothing that can concern Damon," she enlisted that courtly manner and steel that she had learned over many years in the higher Drake courts. The fact was, the cold and precise manner was a facade, meant to hide her nerves which where strained to their very ends. The pit of her stomach was coated in a thick layer of ice and her hands were clammy and wet. The longer Char stood and looked at her, the more she felt like she would faint at his feet. Or run down the hall and into her bed to forget this entire matter completely. 

He stepped back and gestured gallantly with an arm to the room beyond. "By all means then, my lady Shannon. Do come in." 

In the end it had been a toss up between enlisting the help of Char or Toby. She had first wanted Toby's help because she knew him, trusted him to help her because his loyalty stood more with her than it did with Damon. But Toby was human, and though he may be able to dig her out of her grave and provide her with the blood she needed in order to survive, he could not come with her and show her how to survive. Char could. And although his loyalty was more to Damon than her, she trusted him to dig her out of her grave and she also was sure he would find her blood. 

The only problem was convincing him to come with her. 

She stepped into the room and removed her heavy maroon cloak, draping it over one of the tall backed chairs beside his bed. She then sat in that chair, resting against the plush cushion. She brushed a locke of dark hair from her eyes and behind her ear. She waited while Char made himself comfortable on the edge of his bed across from her. He looked so relaxed, she thought vaguely. He had one a crisp white shirt, long sleeves with a small collar. It was fastened across the middle with little cloth ties, and the ends were tucked into dark breeches. He waited for her to speak, his head slightly tilted to the right so that his copper hair fell long enough to brush the shoulder of his shirt. His eyes were so blue. Like... water, maybe. They reminded her of Malachy's eyes. 

"I am surprised at your visit, and I do enjoy being in your company, my lady Shannon. But, is there something you wished to speak with me of? I dare say, you look as if you will be ill at any moment. Are you ill?" 

"No. No, of course not." She offered a brief smile. "Tell me, Char, are you aware that Damon means to make me like him. Him and yourself, that is. A... well immortal, a vampire, if you please. I..." 

"Yes I am aware, " he interrupted, "are you having second feelings about that change? You shouldn't. Damon may be irresponsible at times, but he cares for you deeply. He told me so and..." His eyes dropped to her hands, which were neatly folded in her lap to hide their presently shaky state. "And," he continued, "It appears as though he gave you a promise of those feelings. I believe," he leaned forward and gently lifted her hand away from it's mate. His fingers were long and warm, yet cool underneath. The pad of his thumb stroked over her knuckles, but his eyes examined the gold circle and blue stone on her finger. "Am I right?" 

She nodded stiffly, her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she would not cry here. It was a time to be strong, not a whimpering idiot of a child. She took a breath and smiled tightly, pulling her hand out of Char's strong fingers. "Char what I have to ask you is important to me. I ask that you only question it as little as possible because I can hardly explain it to myself, much less another person. I know you and Damon are friends. Good and old friends, bound together through blood and loyalty and the Lord knows what else. I know you have no reason to risk anything for me. You just met me after all. Has Damon told you about Malachy?" 

"Who?" 

Shannon smiles, "I suppose he hasn't." 

*******

When Shannon was done telling him all about her dreams of Malachy, including the ending where he had told Shannon she would have to leave Damon to save her family. He was not sure if he wanted to help her. Damon would be pissed, for sure. Char grinned, maybe he could get a good fight out of this. Shannon looked distraught, she looked as if she really cared for Damon. Maybe she did. He didn't know about family, his own being dead for over two hundred years now. 

"Alright, I will help you," he muttered. "Don't ask me why, I'm not sure I know why myself. I think you have a lot of guts, I'll give you that. The window, huh?" He glanced to his own window, "Long way down." 

"I know," she answered flatly. 

"I'm not sure if I will be there right when you wake up in the ground. You may be awake for awhile." 

"I know." 

Char frowned, "Give me some reactions, girl! You are going to hurl your pretty little body out a window, down to the ground. It won't feel good, but then you'll be dead. Then you are going to wake up in a wood box under piles of dirt. You'll be dying of thirst, but it won't be a thirst you can quench with wine or water. It will be a burning, dry sensation in your veins. It will make you itch and your skin crawl. And all you can say is, 'I know' like it's some damn walk in the park, picnic by the lake affair." 

Shannon looked at him, "and dwelling on those facts is going to make me feel better? I know... no. I don't know what I'm in store for, but I do know you'll come and get me out. Then I can leave. Go somewhere, and start a new life for myself. Learn to hunt. You'll teach me. You'll teach me, right?" 

He rolled his eyes, "I said I would. I will. I'll take care of you," he smiled, "And you'll take care of me?" 

Shannon stood and patted Char on the top of his gloss copper head, "No, not like you mean. But I will help you out, if you need help. I owe you for this Char. Thank you." She turned to him before she left his room. "Now I must go tend to Damon, and tonight I will... " She shrugged. 

"Don't worry about a thing Shannon, in a few days this will be all over and you shall be a creature of the night. A Queen of Darkness if you will," he grinned. 

Shannon just shook her head and walked out. 


	23. Chapter 23

**__**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 24  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

Scotland 1745 

The room on the third landing of the Drake estate was dark, and cold. Shannon leaned against the broad window frame and looked down at the people filling into the dinner hall. Her father greeted... one of her brothers went inside... John Gabel, the estate's best fisherman walked in with his wife and young son. An old teacher of Shannon's, bent over his cane, shuffled in a moment later. The moon rose higher in the sky, shadows shifted and the doors to the hall closed. Her gaze shifted to the ground below her. A fall that would kill her. In a moment, she thought. Just one more moment.... 

Her fingers ran over the gold circle around her finger, found the small blue jewel and traced the pattern. Damon, she thought, and closed her eyes. Damon, will you ever forgive me? Will we ever find each other? Years from now, when the Earth has grown, changed. Millions dying, being born again. She would always be the same, never aging, never changing. 

She brushed a hand over her damp cheeks. This was harder than she thought. She stepped into the window, the wind seemed to rise around her, picking up her hair and ruffling her dress. It was cold, but despite the chill she was sweating, her hands damp, her throat sour with fear. Such a long way down, looking didn't help. 

She was crying openly now, the tears running hot trails down her cheeks, rolling under her chin and down her neck. So many things to cry about, many things that would be gone forever.... her feet inched to the edge of the window, now her toes hung off the edge, looking into oblivion. 

Wasn't suicide, wasn't dying. She'd wake up, she was making a sacrifice for her family. Her hands pressed flat against the cold stone of the outside wall. One step, one leap. Lean forward, just slightly and it would all be..... don't look down, her mind whispered. She looked up. Sky was cloudy, but the moon was full. The wind was brisk. Now over never, Shannon, now or never... her mind chanted. Now or never.... 

The ground rushed to meet her fall, and the rest was all darkness. 

****

America - Summer 1963 

She sat up in bed, her hair matted to her body with sweat, her bare skin damp, eyes wide, still in the dream. Slowly, her breathing slowed, her eyes adjusted and she was awake. The air coming in the open bedroom window was warm, fragrant and dry. Far off a dog barked. The arm the had been around her waist, and had fallen into her lap stirred. 

"Babe?" Josh's voice reached her ears. He sounded sleepy, not yet fully awake. She reached over and touched his bare back lightly and he jumped. "My god, you're freezing!" He said in a clear voice. He sat up, taking her icy hand in his. "Another dream? A bad one?" 

She nodded slowly, then climbed out of bed, going to the window and looking out at the sky, obscured by the big city buildings. The wind blew in, curling around her bare legs. She raised a hand to straighten her light tank top, that she usually wore to bed now that the temperatures had risen to uncomfortable temperatures. 

Josh came behind her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist, his chin came to rest on her shoulder. "Same dream? Or should I call it a flashback?" 

"Flashback." 

"Was it the same?" 

She nodded. 

"Talk to me, Shannon." 

"I was remembering him. Damon. It was everything. It was longer this time, just not my fall. It was...." she shook her head slowly, "It started when he first came to my father's home. I even dreamed about.... about the dreams." 

Josh sighed, tightening his arms for support. "What do you think it means?" 

"I'm not sure. Maybe it means nothing." She shrugs, pulled away from him and lowered in the recliner in the corner of their small apartment. Pulling the damp hair from off her neck, she let her mind start to roam again. How many years? How long? Where is he? Had he found her? Questions continued to bubble out of her, questions but never a single answer yet. 

Josh laid back down in the bed, curling his arms beneath his head and looking at her patiently as she worked out the inner dilemma. Her eyes flickered to him. Josh. Josh, a human boy who knew about her. Tall, handsome with his wavy brown hair and deep green eyes, much like her own. Strong, finely toned, well muscled. Sweet, friendly, kind, loving. A good lover, a good friend. Someone she trusted. A listener. 

Her eyes were beginning to blur and her mind was jumbling thoughts together. Slowly she returned to the bed and let Josh close his arms around her body again. Just dreams. The past... was dead. Before her eyes closed, she focused on the gold circle on her finger. She still wore it. 

She'd always wear it. 


	24. Chapter 24

**_If revenge is sweet .... Then I'd kill the chipmunk slowly._**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 25  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com) 

Summer 1963 - America 

Damon Salvatore sat in his apartment sipping a glass of red wine that did nothing for him. He had long ago lost all taste for food and drink alike. What he wanted was a nice sip of some smooth skinned neck, preferably a woman, but at this point he was to thirsty to care where he got it from, male or female. 

The sun was covered by a grey, formless wash of clouds. It was almost two in the afternoon, and the air coming in the open window was damp and warm. It smelt like rain, but Damon knew better. It wouldn't rain if he did not want it to, and he was not in the mood for rain just yet. 

The large, ever growing city of New York was booming with life. Women in calf skin skirts and long braids clicked their heels down the pavement on the way to a late lunch or to pick up their children from school. Men with long hair pulled back in leather ties, sometimes watched those women walk down the pavement. Hunger flashing in their eyes. Other people... college students in jeans and long ironed hair and strings of multi-colored beads and ribbons tied to their clothes walked down the street, oblivious and care-free. 

Damon sat in his apartment, modestly dressed in Italian black slacks and a black t-shirt, had never understood the way the world's trends changed. Forty years ago women had just begun to break the dress code of America. Skirts had begun to crawl to the knee, arms were sometimes exposed, everything had still been very modest, and Damon had sat through that era favoring loose white shirts and brown overalls over the fancy suits men favored. 

The past made him smile. In the 1920s he had been in America, but in California. In a town more famous for it's history of gold than of it's cosmopolitan crowd. Something about that era had made Damon want to stay behind the scenes, not draw attention to himself. And he hadn't. He hadn't made any attention for himself until he crossed the black Atlantic Ocean, back to Europe.... into Germany again. 

Damon frowned. Germany was destined to leave him with bad memories. He had been in Germany for the Second World War, another one of the human's stupid excuses to bicker and fight about the problems of the world. The only problem was, he hadn't expected the horrors of Germany. Once a beautiful country, it had been infested by corruption, cruelty and hate. And most of all death..... 

Damon blinked, then shook his head. He had fallen asleep, it was now four o'clock. Time for dinner he supposed and stood, running a hand through his dark, feathery hair. It brushed the top of his collar and fell into his eyes. He pulled his leather coat on and decided against the keys to his car. He'd walk, get some fresh air. He felt restless anyway, a walk would ease his twitching muscles. 

When he stepped outside the air went still and hung over his head like a heavy cloud. He wanted to stretch his arms over his head, but he settled for linking his hands together and cracking his knuckles. His fingers ran automatically over his heavy silver ring, seeking out it's small engravings and over the dark blue jewel, which almost hummed with stored power. 

He wondered, briefly, where Stefan was at the moment, and on a whim sent out a quiet probe that slithered across the city. Damon knew Stefan was no where in America, Stefan prefered to hang on to the past and reside in Italy, or Germany. As Damon slowly pulled the probe back inside himself he felt a flicker of response in the corner of his mind. He whirled to the south, where the flicker had come from and started walking. 

_I thought he was in Italy_, he thought furiously more angered at himself for being easily deceived by Stefan, than by the fact that Stefan was in the area. 

Another probe went out, this one not his, and touched his mind gently, then retreated, leaving a clear female scent behind. 

It wasn't Stefan. Who was it? _Katherine!_ His stomach jerked, and he wanted to curse. Not Katherine. Only one other female could it be, and it made his heart leap this time. He wouldn't let himself believe that, it was impossible and he was still so bitter towards her. He wanted to kill her himself, he wanted to tear her heart from her chest and crush it, and make her feel it so that maybe she would know what he had gome through, how he had mourned for her, how he still mourned for her..... in his mind, if not his heart anymore. He refused, and had refused, to let himself feel that way toward anyone again. Thrice, mother, Katherine.... and her, and he would not say her name, she would hear it. He knew somehow that she would know. 

He turned north, away from that mind of the past and he walked the other way. Not today, he would deal with it tomorrow. he was like stone, his face smoothing over like cool marble, his eyes hardening like ancient obsidian, his lips curving into a cruel smile. Many years had gone by, too many to count, and too many to remember how loving her had been. 

He did not love her now. Now all he wanted was to avenge his heart, repair the damage it had taken when she supposedly died, and quench his thirst for the sweet nectar that was her blood in his memory. This time she would die, he would see to that as he drained her and filled himself with the blood of her veins. 

He had to smile at that, and he opened up the sky with that smile. 

Spreading his arms to the sky, tipping back his head, eyes closed, he let the cool water fall down his face, soaking his clothes and plastering his hair to his scalp. If revenge was sweet... 

He smiled up at the sky. Revenge would be very sweet. 


	25. Chapter 25

tnd26

**_I cry when Angels deserve to die._**

Tomorrow Never Dies Part 26  
by Jessica French (Midnite363@aol.com)

Summer 1963 - America 

The lights placed throughout the park by the city did nothing to make it any safer. To Shannon, the park was as light as day, even though it was nearly eleven o'clock at night. She could see everything, into every dark corner, under every tree. And she could see her prey. 

He wasn't very big, but he was tall like a basketball player. He was walking north through the park, which meant he was probably coming from some late class or function at the school. Not like it mattered, but Shannon always liked to know a little about her prey before she pounced. 

She sighed. 

This was hardly the hunting her mind called for, but it would have to do. For a long time, she had lived in Russia. Russia because it was vast and the country was beautiful. Russia was a good hunting ground, she concluded. 

The boy was drawing near the tree where she sat perched in one of it's heavy, dark limbs. She readied herself, a sharp intake of breath and... 

She threw her arm up just in time to save her eyes, but the effort put her off balance, so when the bird's body hit her like a solid weight she toppled back and fell through the limbs of the tree. Branches and leaves slapped at her face before she felt only open space below her, and she hit the ground with a hard, audible thud. She lay on her back a moment, more angered than hurt, her eyes closed. 

"Miss?" a voice asked hesitantly. "Miss, are you alright?" 

Cracking one eye open, she couldn't help the amusement in her voice when she answered, "No, I think I broke my arm." She tried to sound hurt, but inside she was laughing. What luck, it was so rare to have them come right up to her. Then again, she never fell out of trees at their feet. 

He smelled of after shave and hair spray when he bent down to help her up and examine her arm. The startled yelp when she grabbed him, flipped him onto his back and stradled him, wasn't as rewarding as it could of been, but she'd take what she was given. Shannon smiled down at him and sighed. He was young. "Just go to sleep, it won't be so bad," she advised even as his eyes clouded. 

When she bent over him to feed, he was already snoring softly, and only made the smallest of sighes when she bit and fed. 

*********

He was sitting on a park bench, cleaning his nails with a pocket knife, when she walked up to him. She looked radiant from her feed, but she also looked annoyed. That was confirmed when she snatched the knife from him, leveled a hand on his shoulder and leaned in close. The knife was practically up his nose when she said between her teeth, "Do that again and rest assured I'll make you regret it." Then she sighed, muttering, "You're an asshole Char," and sat down beside him, flipping the knife closed and handing it back. 

Charles Dalmantia hadn't changed in all those years. He still wore his glossy auburn hair cleanly cut, he still had his wicked sense of humor and he still loved to frequent the best brothel's in Europe. America wasn't so bad either, but it lacked a certain class, so he has strayed from any such establishments here. He had, however, tracked down and kept an eye on Shannon since he arrived a week earlier. 

"It was funny," he said. 

She scrowled. 

"It was _funny_," he insisted. 

She looked over at him. "I'm going to have bruises for a week from that fall." 

"You got your prey," he said with a smile that suddenly turned suggestive, "And I'll give you a massage if you ache so much." 

She waved him off. "How long have you been in New York?" 

"About a week. Thought I'd look you up." His English accent was thick compared to her dull Scottish lilt, toned down from year of living in America. "I found you, apparently. Hey what's wrong?" 

Her face was white, and her eyes dilated. _Only a week?!_ "Are you sure it's only been a week?" 

His eyes narrowed in concern, "Yes, look I have my boat pass right here, it's dated for four days ago. What _is it_ Shannon?" 

Shaking her head she stood. She passed a hand over her face, roughly rubbing at her eyes. She had hoped, against hope, that the brush of mind she had sensed over two weeks ago had been Char's. She knew, for a fact, that she was the only vampire in the city. _A fact,_ she stated stubbornly, because she hated to be wrong. 

Closing her eyes tightly did nothing to stop the bubbling of panic in her throat and the animal instinct to run. Run _fast_. 

She knew she was alarming Char, so she turned. And because he would know if she were lying... Char knew when _everyone_ was lying... she told him. 

"Damon knows I'm here." 


End file.
